


Midnight Sparkle

by SteinShipping61



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety Disorder, Asexual Character, Awkward Romance, Bisexual Character, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gay Character, Hurt/Comfort, Lemon, M/M, NSFW, Our Ciel - Freeform, Parent Death, Parenthood, Real Ciel - Freeform, Romance, Social Anxiety, Social Issues, Step-parents, twin ciels, vintaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:37:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 28,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteinShipping61/pseuds/SteinShipping61
Summary: The faint swipe of a card in the door lock.  Opening into a room flowing with radiant beauty. Face smooth and exceedingly handsome, this man is nothing like he expected.Adrian Crevan, better known as his online handle TheUndertaker, has crippling social anxiety that forces him to hide behind a thick fringe of hair and a confident facade, the fabricated identity he portrays as protection. Maybe this 'Phantom' will see through his disguise and maybe that isn't a bad thing.Modern Black Butler AU.





	1. Prologue

Adrian Crevan stands against the pool table on the outside deck of the Spanish resort in Majorca, holding the pool que proudly. The 13 year old smokes the end of a rolled-up cigarette awaiting the challenger he knows will never come, because he beat everyone else in the hotel, stealing their money in the process. All the teens, all the adults. Nobody will challenge him, he's the king of the fucking pool table. A bus arrived this morning and just as he finished breakfast of cereal and orange juice (in separate containers) he noticed a kid entering amongst the other tourists, tall, slender and dressed in black.

The older kid was cute, he'd thought, and as he stands Adrian can't help glance around in search of him. Not that he could ever talk to him, someone taller and older and imposing. People in general are imposing, making him feel small as he stands before them. He just about gives up, ready to abandon his pursuits because even if this mystery boy approaches him, there's no way he'd actually talk to him! He wouldn't have any idea how to. He flicks away his smoke and places down his que when a hand wraps around the shaft, picking it up before him.

It's the boy, his hair greasy and black and falling over his face. His skin is a dusty pale, red eyes searing into his soul, creepily as he states like a ravenous demon. Demon Stare gazes from his oddly silver hair down to his black sandals with tiny metal skull accents on the straps, and his silver toe rings.

"So, you're supposed to be the champion of the hotel," Demon Star challenges, and Adrian freezes. He's so intimidating, he's terrifying with those eyes of his and his imperial stature, several inches taller than Adrian. "But you look to scared to be the hotel champion. Or am I simply wasting my time with you?"

Adrian can only stand and gulp, hyper aware he's staring in fright at this boy, frozen in position and unable to respond. If he doesn't, it'll be an unintelligible series of stammers. Thankfully Demon Eyes doesn't wait for a response and begins setting up the balls for the next game, freeing Adrian to breathe a sigh of relief. He breaks the triangle and pots a stripe.

"Huh. I guess I'm stripes," Demon Eyes smirks over at Adrian, who's admittedly impressed. Nobody expects to sink a ball on the break. Demon Eyes then proceeds to sink every. Single. Ball. Without missing once and Adrian doesn't get a single turn. His mouth gapes in shock as this boy sinks the 8 ball, turning to smirk at him in satisfaction. "Well, I guess I win,"

Adrian just stands there dumbfounded.

"Don't feel too bad, I used to play professional in tournaments for the under 12's," he smiles, but it isn't a happy smile. Adrian feels like he'd never look happy. His imposing nature fits with his gothic attire, dressed all in black despite the heat of the resort. He dresses very similar to Adrian, but more intensely rooted in the dark gothic theme. "I'll be taking the money now,"

Demon Eyes swipes Adrian's hard earned cash off the corner of he pool table. Finally, the defeated speaks up. "D-Do you know any tricks?"

"Bloody right I do," he grins, satisfied with himself. Pride seems to radiate from his smirk, despite the expression never having changed. "But I don't feel like paying to get the balls out again to show you,"

At this Adrian grins and without having to say anything, stick his hands down the holes and picks out plastic drinks cups, the kind given out in the hundreds by the bar. They're crumpled and in each of them are the pool balls. "Y-You don' have ta... pay," he gives a small mischievous smile, hidden under his crimson blush and his fringe. Demon Eyes claps.

"Shit, nice one mate," he sits a stripe and a circle 10 inches apart, and sets up the white ball to shoot. Adrian stands at the other end of the table, watching curiously. 

"Right, I'm going to hit the white, have it bounce in the space between them and roll into the hole without disturbing the other balls," He explains, looking up to ensure Adrian is following. Adrian is, and Demon Eyes pulls back the cue, sliding it back and hitting the white ball with extreme force. 

It clacks off the stripe at the far end, making them shoot in opposite directions. The white ball flies off the table and crashes right into Adrian's crotch. "Holy shit!" Demon Eyes runs around the table, almost doubling up in laughter. "Are you Alright?!"

Adrian isn't. Tears bring in his eyes and he grips his crotch, weeping silently. Not from pain, but this entire thing is so humiliating. He can feel burning eyes on him, stares of curiosity and confusion, wondering what just happened. Most of all he hates that he's crying in front of this guy, making himself a fool and unworthy of his friendship. Who'd ever want to hang out with him after this?

He was a fool to consider himself at those standards. He feels so awkward when he stands back up, trying to pretend like he wasn't just crying. It's so fucking obvious, Demon Eyes shakes his head with in amusement. "Where'd the white go?" He doesn't remember hearing it drop and looks under the table.

Adrian takes his hands away from his crotch and in one is the white ball. He holds it up proudly, feeling accomplished with himself again, having recovered from his loss. Sure, Demon Eyes beat him, but he also screwed up a simple trick after bragging. Cocky prick - serves him right, Adrian thinks. Demon Eyes extends a hand. "I'm Sebastian Michaelis. You are?"

He doesn't know what to answer, his first thought being that Sebastian Michaelis is a sexy-sounding name, especially when spoken in such an accent. "A-Adrian Crevan," he forces our, straining every syllable. He knows already that he's failing at this. How long are handshakes supposed to last again? This one feels like it's been going on for an absurd eternity.

Eventually they let go, and stand there awkwardly. "Do you wanna have lunch?"

Adrian shakes his head. He doesn't think he could stomach anything after that jarring experience.

"I meant with me?" Sebastian offers, rolling his eyes. "You've never had a proper friend before - have you?"

Adrian hasn't. Instead of admitting this he does the (slightly) less traumatic thing and grabs Sebastian's hand, dragging him under the canopy and into the hotel cafeteria, which is thankfully just right of the patio doors. Adrian makes a cheese sandwich, because the rest of the options have weird French names he doesn't know. Sebastian collects various miniature things in a bowl and constructs s fruit salad for himself. They take a small two-seater behind a pillar, where Adrian is protected from the eyes of other diners.

"So, do you have a speech impediment?" Sebastian asks bluntly, using a fork to mix random fruit pieces with yoghurt. "Or social anxiety?"

Adrian isn't sure whether or not to be honest. "P-People make me nerv-nervous," he says eventually, telling Sebastian he has social anxiety without having to admit it. Again, he feels like such a weirdo. Sebastian just nods.

"That's fine man, I got depression," Sebastian pulls back his wristband to reveal large cuts trailing over his wrist, of varying stages of healing. It looks like he picked up a butcher's knife and went to fucking town on himself. "The bands are meant to help me stop cutting - they sting against the cuts,"

That makes no sense, but kay. Adrian frowns. He's 13, he wonders what normal 13 year olds talk about. "What d'you wan' ta be when you grow up?" He asks finally. Sebastian gives him a look, and he knows he's been weird again.

"A burlesque dancer," answers the older boy.

"Wha' is that?"

"Like a stripper but classy," Sebastian answers. Alright then. "You?"

"An Undataka'," Adrian answers.

"Why?"

"Dunno," he shrugs. "I've always wan'ed ta be one,"

"Hm," Sebastian ponders him for a long while. "It suits you, as a title I mean. Yes, I can see it,"

Adrian smiles, that's affirming. "Sebas'ian?"

"Hm?"

"Are we friends?"

Slightly amused again, Sebastian nods. "I suppose we are now,"


	2. Chapter 1

Adrian Crevan curls up in bed, the warmth of his sheets radiating his own body heat back to him like the Earth's CO2 blanket. He feels the stark contrast between his warm body under the sheets and cold head peeking out the covers, fringe whisked up by the faint breeze coming from the open window in the other room. He doesn't want to get up. Bed is safe, it hugs him and never judges him, provides him an unconditional service for which it expects no payment. He sighs. He shouldn't get up soon, but he doesn't want to leave his bed. That's it, he decides, the day is over before it begins. 

Sebastian has other plans. 

His lanky roommate strolls in, smiling sardonically down at his friend curled up, a human burrito. "I left your clothes on the radiator to warm them up, get changed," he orders softly but firmly and exists quickly, leaving Adrian to cocoon further into his blankets. The thought of leaving his small apartment and going outside is terrifying the lithe man and all he wants to do is escape into the dark chasm of layered bedlinen. His body shakes with anticipatory anxiety when he stands up, immediately pulling down his fringe to hide from imaginary people. 

The clothes Sebastian left him are basic. Loose and black, comfortable when he slips them on, the way he likes them. The length of his hair is pulled into a high ponytail but of course, the front drops over his face, concealing him like a grey veil that tickles his eyelashes. He wraps a choker around his neck scar, zips up the sides of his boots and exists into the foyer. 

Sebastian and himself share a flat in Marylebone, an exclusive property in which rent is £24,000 monthly, split between them at £3,000 a week. Opulent and spacious, it feels empty and hollow whenever Adrian is alone. Terrified as he is of other people, being lonely is such a suffocating feeling he can't stand it. He hates the quiet, you see. Walks around the apartment laughing just to hear some noise. "Why'd you 'ave ta drag me outta bed?" He flops down across the couch where Sebastian is typing on a laptop. "I wanna take a day off,"

"Not happening," Sebastian chirps, always the morning person. He shoves a pot of tea into Adrian's face. "You have a client for this afternoon. A gentleman who calls himself..." Sebastian brings up the anonymous responder on their website. 

"The Phantom,"

Adrian chuckles behind his hair, tentatively sipping tea. "Very mysterious. Is there a pic'ure? Is he ugly?" 

"No picture," Sebastian muses. 

"So he is ugly!" Adrian claps and cackles loudly. "What does he wan' in the aftanoon anyway?" Usually their clients recommend a hotel session in the evening. 

"He was quite specific," Sebastian hums and turns the website towards Adrian with a smile. "I calculated how much his package would cost for you because I'm nice," 

Midnight Sparkle, Escort Service.   
-Name: The Phantom.   
-Requested Escort: The Undertaker.  
-Time Booked: 1400-1600 (2 hours), £50 per hour + travel and expenses  
\- Location: Le Gavroche   
\- Additional Requirements: Wear the top hat in your sample pic ;), £20.   
Total - £120 plus expenses. 

"Holy shit," Sebastian coughs. "This asshole is paying £120 to take you to dinner at the most exclusive restaurant in London! He must be fucking ugly, he doesn't even want sex afterwards," 

"Desperate," Adrian sighs and shakes his head. "Then again..." he pauses to look at the name. Phantom. Dark, sexy and mysterious. 

Adrian dresses in what he can only assume is appropriate attire for an exclusive restaurant. Tight-fitting, all black suit and silver jewellery with a white button-down underneath. He can't put his top hat on yet, for it'll fuck up his ponytail. 

He has a few hours to wait, so sits by Sebastian still sipping his tea and playing with his thin braid. "I envy you, Undie," Sebastian laments. "I never get taken to fancy places by clients. It's always hotel, whatever weird their they're into, money and kicked out. I never get romanced!"

"I hate it!" Adrian sighs, resting his head in crossed arms. The more he thinks about this afternoon the more anxiety builds up. He can't help overthink - will this man resent spending money on him? What will he want to talk about? Will he be disappointed? Adrian can deal with clients who want a quick fuck in hotel rooms but the thought of an intimate conversation in an exclusive restaurant may as well invoke walking barefoot over hot coals, it's so frightening! "I have to talk to this guy and pretends to like him and he might be affectionate and ugh - you get it easy. You only ever get chosen for sex," 

"Are you kidding? It's Heaven for me to be affectionate with people, no matter how gross. I'm a social butterfly!" Sebastian whines, stretching and throwing his head onto the back of the couch. "I actually like conversation, you just get super anxious. That reminds me, take some Xanax before you go," 

"Ahhhhhhhhh I don't... really want to," Adrian sighs, not for any personal objection but because he refuses to give up the protective aspect of his own anxiety. His anxiety is awful, ruining is time with anyone especially a stranger, but he values its use in this line of work, not letting him relax with clients and in turn not letting them take advantage of him. Sebastian doesn't care, he just doesn't. No matter what he's picked for Sebastian lets himself relax and immerse fully into the role, either with Xanax or red wine or a Wombo-Combo of both and loses himself to it. There have been times Adrian got phone calls from panicked clients that Sebastian passed out and he had to come and pick him up, refunding the client. And there have been times...

"Fine, if you say so," Sebastian swallows a Xanax for himself (What do you have to be anxious about? Adrian wonders) and stands up. "Right, let's go," 

In his sleek black Mercedes Sebastian drives Adrian through the streets of London, going on a leisurely detour and parking in a secluded residential spot for Adrian to fix his hair, give himself a thin braid just by his ear, pull the rest of his long hair back and conceal his face with his fringe, adding the tall top hat adorned with blue fabric orchids. "How do I look?" he asks worriedly as he adjusts himself in the sideview mirror, curling up the edge of his fringe in his fingers so it appears to curve up sharply. 

"Perfect! Now go, or you'll be late," Sebastian encourages, practically kicking Adrian up the ass to force him into the restaurant. 

As soon as he sees the dining room he is floored. Gawking at absolutely everything from the immaculately dressed tables to the lush red robe cordoning off the entire dining area. The walls are a dark red and chairs framed with black varnished wood centuries old. A waiter hurriedly approaches the bench. "Good afternoon, Undertaker," he bows, hand on his heart. Adrian coughs up whatever measly semblance of courage he doesn't have and melts into a stammering mess before this man. 

"Wh-What?" he asks, feeling his mouth getting dry. He's so embarrassing! He just stammered at this waiter and has no idea what he's doing?! He doesn't belong in a place like this and it SHOWS. The waiter smiles cryptically and leads him right to the back table, which is actually set up for about 20 guests but one man sits, all alone in the centre. Adrian thought being emotionally intimate with an ugly old guy would terrify him and trigger his anxiety, but the appearance of this man is the complete opposite, and it's making his anxiety go haywire. 

The Phantom is young, about 25, with neatly combed shining hair in a page-boy cut, totally reflective of his wealth. It's an odd colour of blue that draws Adrian's eyes, making him feel like he's being dragged into the depths of the ocean. The client stands up and had impressive posture, taller than Adrian but that's just because he naturally slouches. The difference in posture and mannerisms are just two minute things about this situation among a million minute things about this situation that terrify him. "Won't you sit, Undertaker," the Phantom gestures to the seat opposite him and sits too, unbuttoning the tailored blue suit jacket fitted to his well-built frame. He looks up with lazy, relaxed eyes and flashes Adrian a dazzling smile revealing pearly white teeth. 

The Phantom's skin is ceramic, reminding Adrian of a perfect china doll. It's alabaster and flawless except for one mark on the edge of his cheek under one eye. A beauty-mark that looks out of place. Strangely beautiful, but disconcerting when so evident among otherwise angelic features. 

He's superior in every way, I'm so embarrassing, Adrian thinks to himself as he slinks into the chair, completely at the mercy of this man. He imagines himself acting horribly, with no training on diner etiquette to be in a place like this. He'll use the wrong spoon or something and disappoint this man to the point of utter failure. Because that's what you are, a failure! 

"Pleased to meet you, I am the Phantom. I must say you look  lot more intimidating in your pic," 

"Oh... I'm sorry," Adrian squeaks past his fringe. This man was expecting someone more confident, hot. Someone like in his profile pic on the site with husky eyes and a sinisterly inviting smile. Why'd he let Sebastian use that picture of him, why'd he even take it?! 

"Don't be, you're just more adorable than I pictured," his smile is pretty and genuine like that of an angel, but it still makes Adrian uneasy. It's a multi-layered smile and those creep him out. "So cute, I'm very glad I chose you," he snaps his fingers and the waiter rushes over, more meek and submissive than he was with Adrian. 

"Would you like a drinks order, sir?" 

"Yes, I'll take a glass of the Pinot Blanc and he'll have a mineral water," he nods over at Adrian, who sits there like a stone statue. "Also, I'm ready to order food. I'll take the soufflé suissesse as the main and only meal, and he..." 

 

The Phantom glances up at Adrian from the menu, something like recognition glittering in his eyes. The closes the menu. "He'll have the sablé aux fraises, mousse vanille de Madagascar et sorbet," he hands the menu to the waiter who stalks off. Now they're alone and Adrian feels even worse, being isolated in this social situation without some kind of buffer. "Well, you look like a frightened kitten," the Phantom leans over the table and smiles at him. 

"I-" Adrian doesn't answer, that doesn't seem like the kind of remark that requires an answer. Not that you'd know, stupid Adrian. 

"Wow, if you're so timid going on a lunch date I can't imagine how you are with your more adventurous clients," the Phantom shoots him a wink across the table. Adrian doesn't get it. The man has a fake name, brings him to this fancy place and has no delusions about what this is or who Adrian is. He doesn't make him play a role, doesn't give him a name and even refers to himself as 'client' so openly. Does the Phantom have no shame, or is he just the exact embodiment of the confidence his appearance would suggest? If that's true, why not find a real boyfriend instead of hiring a date? Maybe he's married, or maybe he's in the closet, one of those men who claims to be straight on Grindr and looks for discreet hookups. Adrian hates them. "You look even more adorable zoned out and confused," 

Adrian snaps back from overthinking and sees the table set for them. The Phantom has what looks like a cheese soufflé and he has... biscuits and ice cream. Well, this man is certainly perceptive, he ordered exactly what Adrian would order if he could speak French. "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to..." he answers quietly, even more confused as to what this man wants. He picks up he bottle and chugs mineral water, grateful for the replacement buffer between them. He likes having a prop, something he can use to separate himself from the situation, one of Sebastian's idiot 'coping strategies' that actually works. 

A new problem arises, though. Adrian hates when people see him eat, can't stand it actually. It makes him feel vulnerable, like he's exposed. There's a reason lions wait for the gazelle to lower their heads to the grass while they eat, it's because they can't react quick enough to an attack, and something tells him that's the Phantom's exact mentality. Although as the Phantom is immersed in his meal he timidly starts to eat his biscuits, just nomming on the edges. He noms an entire circle with tiny teethmarks around each one to slightly smaller circles and smaller and smaller and smaller. 

The Phantom may be classy but he eats like a reptile. Cheese gets absolutely everywhere and eventually Adrian can't help but laugh at the one string that just falls from his client's mouth to the table. He just sits there giggling until Phantom seem to become entirely self-aware and stares blankly at him. Adrian freezes, dying of embarrassment in that silent moment. "Well, the cutie finally comes out of his shell," he grins. "Good to know you actually have a personality slightly different from Bambi's," 

"B-Bambi?" 

"The deer," 

Adrian gulps. "Yyyyou still h-have some, er..." 

"Of course," he wipes it, back to Mr Casanova. "You seemed confused earlier. Why?" 

"I-I just..." damn, this is so embarrassing. "I just wanted to know why you wanted this, with me. This must cost a lot and I-I just don't feel very self-conscious... not that I'm not grateful! I-I'll pay you back..." 

"Calm down - I'll still pay you, providing I get my money's worth," 

Adrian gulps once again. "What do you want?" 

Phantom leans across the table and winks at him. "I want real date, with you," 

"A-Are you extorting me?!" 

"It's a compliment," 

Adrian huffs. £120 for eating nice strawberry biscuits and laughing at a guy isn't a deal he gets every day and Sebastian needs his share of the money. "A-A-Alright, Phantom. Or- or do I get a real name since it's a 'real' date now?" he asks more in his head than he means to aloud. 

"Absolutely not," the Phantom stands, buttoning his jacket. "You're sexy in a top hat but you're still my employee. I fucking own you, Undertaker,"


	3. Chapter 2

The Phantom orders another round of wine and Adrian nurses his expensive mineral water (£8 a bottle... Jesus) Now that it's a 'real date' he's even more nervous, why the Hell did he agree to this?! Of course Phantom is still just a client, but this feels a lot more personal and personal interaction is even worse. He can disassociate when it's just a client, put on a confident facade, but he hasn't been able to do that this time because of stupid fucking social anxiety. "So," the Phantom begins, having his own desert now and folding a napkin over on his lap. "Tell me about yourself. I can't imagine how someone gets into this- he gestures to Adrian's attire. "Line of work,"

Adrian bites his lip, unsure of how much to tell him. He's already feeling vulnerable bad is starting to sweat profusely - under all that hair and a top hat it's bound to happen. "Well I originally wanted to be a funeral director," he begins at normal pace. "Then I realised I had to pay for embalming school and I was already too poor to afford that and nobody was hiring so my friend told me he could get me a job overnight and I agreed, and it turned out to be this and I went on a date for pay with a man named John in his apartment who was really weird about the whole thing and we went on a bus and he kept asking about my scars and-" 

"Woah there," the Phantom chuckles, raising his hands to stop Adrian. "You're talking too fast, I can't keep up!" 

Adrian does that. One of his safety behaviours when he feels threatened, talk and talk and talk fast in unrelenting prose without pauses. He always does it in his facade too, but because he seems confident people just think it's a monologue. "I- S-Sorry. I don't... I ended up... I..." 

"Take your time," The Phantom reaches over the table, squeezing Adrian's hand. It makes him feel tingly, not in a scared way but in an intrigued way. What an interesting man is the Phantom. The two hours have passed, Adrian is billing him for this extra time. "Go ahead,"

"A-And I had to... give him..." Adrian gulps harshly, tears springing in his eyes from this utter embarrassment and freeing nerves. "A-And...And..." 

"Hmm," the Phantom grins. "C'mon, say it. C'mon now," 

"And I tugged 'im off for a tenner," Adrian admits a bit too loud, clamping his hands over his mouth. 

"There we go," The Phantom smiles, before he bursts out laughing. In a good way. He finds Adrian so endearingly cute he just can't help himself! "Well that's quite a story," 

"H-How do you get into... the line of work you can afford this?" Adrian asks, back to his timid self and gesturing sloppily at the grandeur of the restaurant.

"I built a highly successful confectionary company and sold it to the Europeans for a billion," 

"Wow," Adrian can't help himself, the Phantom is his first billionaire client, unless he was exaggerating. But this restaurant suggests he wasn't. "S-So are you Willy Wonka?" Adrian cracks a grin. 

"Oh my God you're so awkward," The Phantom snorts. "But yeah, in a way. I'm just as secretive," he places a slender finger to his lips trying to be conspiratorial and fucking nailing it. This guy could nail anything he wanted including Adrian if given half the chance. He leans back in his chair, staring out the window at the street below. They decide to people watch, laughing at and pointing out the absolute fashion atrocities of the London elites. 

"L-Look at that one," Adrian points to a man dressed in a blend of reds, browns and yellow/ orange ocre colours with a pink and white striped ribbon tie and granny glasses. The Phantom makes a facial expression like said man just spat on his tea. 

"Ohhhhh no," he groans. "Ring ring, the fashion police are here and you're under arrest hun!" It makes Adrian laugh, but he still contains himself. He hates his laugh, it's too loud. And he's sweating too much. His legs bounce under the table. Has he been having an anxiety attack this whole time? No time to question as the Phantom folds up his napkin and places it on the table. 

"Well it's been fun. But I am a busy man you know - places to go, people to see and all that," 

"O-Of course," Adrian agrees, saddened this time is ending. He'd hoped the moments with Phantom world go on forever. But another part of him is so relived he gets to crawl into bed and escape the world of extroverts.

"I'll just PayPal it to you, yeah?" Phantom asks, already doing so. He uses his username for the escort service and transfers it to Adrian's escort service email. When Adrian's phone pings he knows he has the money. "That's £200 wired - I added a £30 tip just for you," 

He winks at Adrian, who blushes deeply. "Th-Thank you." He hates saying that for some reason. Makes his skin crawl. He wishes he didn't have to be here for the paying and tipping process, he isn't sure how to each when clients do that. It's like being an underpaid waiter. 

"Better than a tenner and you didn't even have to give me a handjob," The Phantom winks, snapping his fingers and ordering the waiter over."Please escort The Undertaker out,"

He turns at his heels when they reach the staircase. "Um, thank you, I can leave from here..." 

The waiter bows to him, holding out a tissue box across his hands. Adrian freezes, feeling utterly mortified. He can tell how nervous I am! Oh this is one big disaster. "Th-Thank you..." he mutters, picking a tissue and wiping the sweat from his forehead with it. 

"They were for your mouth, sir. You're drooling biscuit crumbs..." 

He's head. That's it, game over. His brain has permanently glitched and his face is as overheating red as his scars. 

When he leaves the building, torrential rain pours down, the kind that bounces off the street and clatters onto asphalt louder than earphones can play music. "Shit," Adrian tucks as much of his hair as he can into his hat, pulling his long robes across his chest. Standing under the semi-protection of the doorway he phones Sebastian on his personal mobile. "Hey, where the fuck are you?!" 

"Wow, three hours, did you end up fucking him anyway?" 

"Ugh, I have some class! Now it's pourin' dickhead, ge' down here!" he asks desperately, looking grimly from left to right and expecting the car to pull up. Hoping desperately that Sebastian and the limo are going to roll around the corner, Any second now. 

"Yeah no, you took an extra hour and now I'm not even in the area! I'm on my way to client - you have to make your own way home," 

"It's raining bloody buckets! Wha' am I meant ta do eh?" 

"Take the bus?" 

"I look like an emo Victorian zombie!" he growls but Sebastian has already hung up. He feels like throwing his phone in the gutter but instead begins speed walking in quick strides to expel his anger/ He walks towards the general direction of the main city where he'll hopefully find an unmonitored train station without a conductor. Adrian jumps the barrier at Paddington station and stands on the platform, huddled in the darkness at the end and praying nobody tries to approach him. A group of chavs come downstairs and gather by the benches, laughing and making mock threats among themselves. They make his hair stand on end and he watches with weary alertness, but the train pulls up and they don't notice him. 

Adrian steps ono the carriage and stretches along an empty bench. He isn't allowed to lie on the cushion but fuck it, he's alone and finally comfortable in this empty carriage, thawing out and stripping off from his rain-soaked hat and long robed coat. His legs are super wet though and it's kind of worse to have a concentrated cold spot. The ride is calm, but he does have to scurry along to the next carriage to avoid the conductor just before his station. Walking off and slipping through the turnstiles Adrian starts towards his flat. 

Finally out his wet clothes and enjoying a pleasantly warm shower, Adrian thinks about the Phantom. That haughty billionaire with the biggest big dick energy he's ever seen, a type of sleek confidence that comes only with being a good fuck and knowing it. Adrian opens his eyes, startled when he hears his work phone beeping from the Ziploc bag. "Fuck," he leans out the bath and blindly grapples for it. He leans back into the shower and starts reading the client request. He sighs, resting his head in his hands, He wants to cry, he's dealt with enough people today and he's tired. The last thing he wants to do is get fucked by some old prick in a dressing gown and pretend to enjoy it.   
Midnight Sparkle, Escort Service. 

_-Name: N/A.  
-Requested Escort: The Undertaker.  
-Time Booked: 2100-2200 (1 hour, £50 per hour + travel and expenses)  
\- Location: Room 22 Comfort Inn, London Westminster.   
\- Additional Requirements: Full penetrative sex, £100  
Total - £150 plus expenses. ___

__It's only 150 quid, there's barely a point. But Sebastian will be pissed if he turns down a client especially since it's an expensive one and he usually gets £50 tip when the total comes to £150. This is the part of the job he can grit his teeth and tolerate, unlike nightmarish dates when turn him into a sweaty stuttering mess. He finds the hotel, which just looks basic as fuck. He takes a second to stand underneath the entranceway lights before going in. Of course he's stopped at reception. "Um, I'm a guest of... Room 22?" aware of how completely oblivious that sounds. The receptionist just smiles shyly and unlocked the door to the small, plain corridor of the lower floor rooms._ _

__It's longer than Adrian thought, 22 being the final room. He knocks on the door. "Um, I'm your appointment..." he calls though. He never knows how to deal with this bit, when the client's in the room and he's waiting patiently outside. It's too ominous to just knock without saying anything but he can't call 'Your Nine o'clock whore is here!'_ _

__He hears the faint swipe of a card in the door lock and the clicking of its offered opening. His client opens the door into a room flowing with radiant beauty. The client. Face smooth and exceedingly handsome, dressed more casually than this afternoon in a classy blue polo, champagne glass dangling from his hand. This certainly isn't what Adrian expected._ _

__"P-Phantom?!"_ _

__"Welcome, Undertaker," he smiles, reaching out and gently leading him into the room, closing the door behind him. The clicking of the lock offsets his complete shock, and he's back to the social anxiety. The Phantom lies back on the bed, exposing his lithe body as he tilts his head back and letting it flop to the side, his hair falling across a sensual smirk. "Well you know why your'e here. Shouldn't we get on with it?"_ _


	4. Chapter 3

Who said Adrian found meaningless sex with customers easier than talking to them? Whoever it was was fucking wrong on so many levels. I mean, it was Adrian himself but he could never admit such a grievous mistake. He can give a middle-aged straight man a bj while he moans his wife's name aloud and sneak out the hotel room window, that's easy. Seeing the Phantom lying in bed before him is the most nerve-wracking moment of his life. He suddenly becomes hyper aware of his own blushing, frantically pulling down his fringe before his face, the drool falling from his mouth 'discreetly' wiped on his sleeve. His leg is bouncing, everything is sweating - and he just had a shower! 

He peeks through his hair, bad move as the Phantom's big dick energy is swinging right in front of him. The Phantom beckons him close with a crooked finger, lips slightly parted and inviting. Just to stop having to look at this, he lunges on top of the Phantom, crashing their lips together aggressively. He reaches up, threading long fingers and shapr nails through the Phantom's sea blue strands. His hair is shining and silky smooth, all the sensual words beginning with 's' to describe the Phantom's body as the epitome of that's letter's seductive omomatophoeia.

A hand presses down on s head with increasing pressure, leading his mouth down the Phantom's collarbones. He licks and sucks them, a bit out off by the tense silence but feeling his own member swell up and another on his torso. It seems rude to ask how big it really is. His tongue is forcibly dragged down to the Phantom's baba, letting it hover there. Adrian squeezes his eyes shut, feeling so much better. This is what he needs, this is where his talents lie and he feels a drive to work for the praise of the Phantom. 

His mouth is stretched by the head of the Phantom's cock. His jawline pops and as his tongue swivels around the head he feels hips buck into his face, a light moan emitting from the warm body above him. Fuck, this is so arousing and for the first time he has an election from a client. It makes his face heat up and subspace kicks in, making him work aggressively to please this mysteriously sexy man. 

His energy drains quickly and thankfully the Phantom's cock is coated in a slick layer of Adrian's seemingly endless amount of available spit. He feels the hand in his hair again, wrenching his head off the dick and up. He's forced to look into his client's eyes and is paralysed with fear, unable to rip them away from the Phantom's gaze. 

The Phantom's eyes are steely and dancing with sadistic pleasure. They're a strange shade Adrian can't name and that adds to how harsh they seem. Has he done something wrong, what's happening? "Get on the bed," is the order, whispered in a smugly pleased tone. "Good boy," 

Adrian slinks off the Phantom, grateful for a way to hide his erection in the bedsheets. "Condoms?" 

"What?" Adrian looks up suddenly. 

"Condoms!" The Phantom barks impatiently. 

"Y-Yes - M'sorry," Adrian rifles through  his pockets and pulls out a Durex, reaching back and blindly handing it to his client. The Phantom takes it and hisses a curse under his breath. Adrian'a heart beats faster and harder if that's even possible. What's wrong? 

"This the biggest you have?" 

"Uh... yeah," 

"Shit, it'll have to fit..." his voice fades to grunts as the Phantom struggles to roll the condom over his head. It's kind of funny and Adrian muffles his laughter into the sheets. Can't get caught laughing by a client... it feels delightfully forbidden. 

Eventually Adrian feels hands spread his thighs apart from behind, tugging off his black skinnies. There's the panic again and he takes a deep, sharp breath, exhaling quickly and taking another breath in tepid arousal. He feels the Phantom's hand slide up his back and grip his hair harshly once again - the man has a hair-pulling kink it seems. Nothing Adrian can't handle, or it wouldn't be if the Phantom wasn't so hot. He can't help let out a slight moan.

Adrian is suddenly painfully aware of his scars. The ones on the backs of his thighs and wrapping around his hips and ass. A finger traces them felty, the Phantom's free hand. It's such a soft, delicate touch that yet seems to pin him to the bed. The hand disappears and he hears a weird noise before it returns and delves between his spread asscheeks. The Phantom fingers him, slowly but with quickly building pace and intensity. Adrian's own hole clenches around the finger, berating hitched as he falls into 100% slut mode. 

The Phantom climbs up until he throws one leg over Adrian's waist. Adrian feels him thrust up against him and balancing on one leg position his dick against Adrian's hole. He grinds up against him and slowly pushes his way past Adrian's tight sphincter. 

Adrian bites his lip in anticipation, feeling his own cock throb through his boxers. He can't resist but push back on the Phantom, who's taking his frustratingly sweet time getting down to business. Seriously, at this rate Adrian will have to charge him another hour. He moans in surprise as the monster cock forces it's way inside until it bottoms out at the end. He can feel the Phantom's stomach resting on his back. 

The Phantom smiles mischievously before bending down over the Undertaker's back, stretching his neck to lick and suck at the grey-haired man's neck. This elicits such wonderful moans and mewls from the Undertaker he fears he'll cum this instant. He bites down harder and the Undertaker squeals, adjusting the distance between his legs as he spreads them like a little slut. The Phantom chuckles and begins to thrust. 

The thrusts go slowly as the Phantom savours each inch of the Undertaker's warmth. "So fucking cute," he growls, speeding up as he gives into his own desires. Not so much deciding the Undertaker has had enough reading, but without the patience to continue his own amusement. His eyes roll to the back of his head, the Undertaker clearly didn't realise what a good fuck he is. The scars across his ass rub up on the Phantom's hips and feel naturally sexy. They fit the writhing body beneath him so well. 

As the minutes passed the Phantom feels himself pulsing and the Undertaker clench tighter to his rhythmic thrusts. Forgetting his decency, he begins to moan deep and loud, almost yelling. The needy dom can't contain himself anymore and whispers. "I'm gonna cum... fuck, scream for me,"

The Undertaker screams which isn't too hard considering he's close himself and the cock feeling like it's tearing him apart. "Scream my name..." the Phantom growls. 

"Ph-Phantom..." The Undertaker whimpers.

"That wasn't what I said. Scream my fucking name!" 

"Phantom!" 

"Scream Vincent!"

"Vincent!" The Undertaker screams hoarsely as Vincent cums furiously inside him, falling down on top of his body. 

Shaking, the Undertaker grips the bedsheets, sobbing slightly. His legs quiver. "P-Please..." he cries and Vincent takes pity on his poor victim. 

The Phantom roughly grabs The Undertaker and spins the lithe man around, now lying on his back. Ashamed, he reaches up and hides his face in his hands. He quickly takes Undertaker dick in his mouth, sucking hard and heavy, listening to the orchestral moans above him that vibrates this body in his possession. It takes less than a minute for the Undertaker to blow a load in his mouth. 

Vincent stands and swallows the load. Through his dishevelled hair Adrian watches him wander around the room, apparently aimlessly. He dresses, to what Adrian would call overdressed with a tie and everything - and seriously, who the fuck uses a pocketwatch in 2019?! But then Vincent is too sexy to blame for anything. All Adrian can do is lie here and pretend to be asleep. 

"I've sent you the money on PayPal. I've booked the room till the morning - fuck off when you want, you don't even have to check out," His master plan to fake sleep doesn't work as Vincent throws a small card onto his chest. "If you ever want to meet outside work hours give me a call," he winks, grabbing a long overcoat that looks like Columbo's and sweeping from the hotel room. As soon as he leaves Adrian picks up the card, reading it. 

Undertaker.   
I really like you. I don't know why, but I think you like me too. I don't mean to offend if you don't. I'd like to get to know you better. Here's my number.   
Sincerely,   
Vincent Phantomhive. 

Adrian groans and his head drops like a tonne of bricks on the bedsheets. 

* 

Vincent stretches across the backseat of his limousine listening to giant classical music playing from the behind the chauffeur's divider. He looks out the tinted windows as brightly lit London roars by. City diffuses to countryside and soon the car crawls through the gates and up the path to his imperial Georgian manor. 

"Dad!" 

Vincent smiles when he enters the house and finds his twin sons of 7 sitting in the foyer. Their Aunt, his wife's sister, is lounging on the couch reading while they sit on the floor and play. Vincent kneels down. "C'mere toy two!" He calls and they rush over in their little matching sailor outfits for a tight hug from their father. They're dressed the same but it's easy to tell which twin is which. 

Ciel looks scarily like Vincent.  Same eyes, hair, devious smile. Their natures couldn't be more different though, Ciel being too serious than any adult should, socially retarded and obsessed with trains and the railroad history. At such a young age he's already reading Inspector Colbeck's adventures as a Victorian railroad detective. Junior on the other hand looks nothing like Vincent. Hair a more intense blue and hanging over his face, eyes blue and sparkling - or eye, tragically. He's the opposite of his brother: childish, bratty and stubborn but with apt social skills like his father and an infant ability to read and manipulate people. Vincent is equally very proud of his sons and their opposing personalities. 

"Did you boys have fun with your Aunt Red?" He asks with enthusiasm. 

"Yeah dad!" Junior claps happily. "We played hide and seek and Ciel hid in a vase and-" 

"Have you had your showers?" He asks Ciel. 

"Yes dad," Ciel smiles. 

"Good boys. Please go upstairs and I'll be up to read you your story," he stands up again. Junior seems mad his dad interrupted him but Ciel (the more dependant one which is saving a lot) takes his hand and the twins go upstairs, whispering together and occasionally glancing back at Vincent. 

Madame Red stands, letting Vincent help with her coat. "You're glowing~" she giggles. "Going to tell me who he was?" 

"He?" Vincent frowns. "How do you know it was a he?" 

"Oh come on Vincent. I know you couldn't be with another woman since..." she refuses to finish that sentence, the words and a sob choking in her throat as she thinks of her poor sister ripped from them by tragedy. "Anyway, you'll need to tell me about it," 

Vincent sighs, combing back his hair with his fingers. "I just feel guilty. It's barely been a year since Rachel died," 

He walks with Madame Red to the front door, opening it for her and standing there.  She turns back as her red-heeled foot padded through the doorway. "Vincent, it's such a good thing you're getting out there. Trust me," she blows him a kiss and exists, where her red Mercedes with the incompetent driver awaits. Vincent watches the car roll away and collapses against the door, sighing. 

"Dad!" He heard the faint voice from upstairs. "Story!" 

"One second boys!" He calls, checking his phone impulsively for texts from the Undertaker. None, of course. What did he think would happen? Whatever. More crushed than he'd care to admit he goes upstairs, no longer feeling up to doing the voice of each individual Lion King character.


	5. Chapter 4

Adrian steps through his front door, shedding his rain-soaked leather trench and squeezing out his hair because fuck Sebastian and his carpet. He strips down in the corridor and walks into his room, tugging pyjamas from his drawer and a blanket. Wrapping himself in the blanket he advances to the sitting room where Sebastian is lounging on the couch drinking a milky oolong. Adrian walks up and crashes into his lap before he can say anything. 

"Gah - watch the tea!!" Sebastian yelps. Adrian shuffles further over his lap so his head is buried between Sebastian's legs. "How did it go...?" 

"Sebastian!" Adrian wails, clutching his thigh. "It went horribly!" 

"He was that ugly huh?" 

Adrian shakes his head. "No, oh Lord 'e was so beau'iful! He had this 'air an' his eyes, Sebastian! Oh he was dreamy..."

"Aw, this is so cute," Sebastian pets Adrian's fluffy soft hair. Like a freshly groomed kitty or a cushion. "Are you falling for him?" 

Adrian continues to hide his blush in Sebastian's lap but he tenses a little. Sebastian knows... he holds up the piece of paper with Vincent Phantomhive's number on it. Sebastian plucks it from between his fingers. "Ooh I was wrong. He's falling for you!" Sebastian bursts into cackles and claps, tossing the number on the coffee table. "Seducing a client, Adrian I had no idea you had it in you!" 

"Shut it!" Adrian glares up at his friend. "I can' dissociate like you can..." 

It's true. Sebastian has never been able to fall for or become overly attached to a client from Midnight Sparkle even after one with the alias 'Beast' fell deeply dependant for him. The reason for this is that Sebastian isn't only asexual but aromantic as well. He simply isn't interested in people in that way or in any way really. He can be amused by them, he can observe them with quiet delight but he cannot love them. 

That's why he's perfect at his job. 

Adrian on the other hand is a hopeless romantic and the Phantom has already stolen his heart. 

"Well are you going to call him?" Sebastian teases. 

"I c-can't!" Adrian stammers, sliding off Sebastian's lap and curling into a ball. "That's against... ethics... policy..." 

"It's my business and I say go ahead!" Sebastian smiles. Honestly it is a grey area but he likes the idea of Adrian finding someone. He'd never even leave the house if it weren't for his work and if that's what it takes to get him someone to love them so be it. Who cares of it's a client? Sebastian takes another sip of his piping hot tea. "Now tell me more about this Phantom," 

* 

Vincent wakes up the next morning to a large empty King-sized bed. He used to love this bed but as it's just him sleeping here the size makes him feel lonely. It drives home how empty this large manor is even if there are constantly people here. The staff, Madame Red, him and his sons. It isn't enough people to fill a house like this. "Dad!" Vincent shoots up to a sitting position and sees Junior standing by the end of his bed not wearing his eyepatch and scared out of his mind. 

"What? What are you doing awake?" He inquires sleepily. Junior climbs onto the bed and onto Vincent's chest, sleeping on him. "Oh, another nightmare?" 

Junior had been home with Rachel when the manor caught fire. His eye had burned out and he watches his mother calmly burn before his eyes. He was then sexually abused by the arsonists. Ever since he has been afflicted with PTSD and the nightmares only seem to get worse. Vincent blames himself and his illicit activities which ultimately led to the crime of passionate hatred. And he still hasn't caught the culprit. But he will. And when he does they will suffer the most brutal death he can provide them without the privilege of an undertaker to ferry them to the other side. 

Vincent rub's Junior's back. "Come on, let's go and wake Ciel. I wonder what Bladroy has managed to burn for breakfast this morning..." 

"HOW DO YOU BURN CEREAL?!" Ciel demands as they sit at the table. He drives his expensive metal toy locomotive around the round table using the edge as railroad tracks. 

"Eh... I tried to boil the milk bu' I burned it so I poured the cereal in it in the pot so save time and...uh..." Baldroy scratches his head, an unlit cigarette having loosely from his mouth. Vincent rolls his eyes and prepares his sons fresh cereal - with cold milk. After the bowls are down, Vincent begins to talk in that weird way grown-ups talk when they are trying to lead you into agreement. 

"Boys," he folds over his hands on the table. "I know nobody can replace your mother but... how would you feel if I made a very good friend and that very good friend comes to live with us, like she did?" He immediately thinks of the Undertaker but of course he hasn't called. 

"Like another wife?" Ciel asks curiously. 

"A girlfriend," Vincent hums. "Or boyfriend," 

"Then he'll be a husband!" Junior announces to nobody in particular and for no reason in particular. A car horn beeps from the front of the house and Vincent hands the twins their schoolbags. 

"There's the chauffeur to take you to school. Go on now, don't make him late," Vincent encourages with a kiss to each twin's forehead. He sits at the table while Baldroy does dishes in otherwise silence until he's startled by a buzzing in his pocket. He picks up the phone and it's a number he doesn't recognise. He answers. 

"Hello?" 

Silence. 

"Hello?" He asks more firmly. If this is a cold caller he's gonna be pissed. He's about to hang up when he hears a hissed. 

"Say something!" 

"B-But..." he smirks. He'd recognise that voice anywhere. His excitement level rises to High he can't help himself. 

"Undertaker?!" 

"F-Fuck..." whispered. "Um, h-hello... Vincent? I'm Ad - I'm the Undertaker," 

"I know..." Vincent begins. "Why are you calling?" Trying to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. He doesn't want to seem too interested. 

"Because... um... you gave me your number," 

"And I said you could call if you'd like to get to know me better. Do you?" He's just torturing the Undertaker at this point but at the same time he really wants the answer to be yes. He just didn't know it. 

"Y-Yeah... I do..." 

"I love your real accent," Vincent chuckles. "And is also like to get to know you better. Coffee tomorrow?" 

"Sounds... um... nice..." 

"The Starbucks on Conduit Street? Can you make it there at... how about 1400 today?" Vincent checks his schedule on the fridge. That'll give him enough time to get back when the boys get in from school. If not he can just text Red. 

"Yes... th-thanks you..."

Once Vincent hangs up he starts laughing, manically, and tosses the phone into the air only to be clumsily caught by Baldroy. "M-Master!" He gasps, heaving never seen Vincent like this. 

"Oh it's so wonderful!" Vincent claps, spinning effervescently around the kitchen counterclockwise like a hyperactive child. "I'm going on a date!"

"A date?!" 

"Yes, a date! Now I must go and get ready," he tugs at his blue striped pyjamas. Today is about impressing the Undertaker, he tells himself.


	6. Chapter 5

The next morning Adrian stands outside his apartment with Sebastian with all of his stuff strewn over the pavement. There isn't much of it, he feels like he should have more and it's mostly clothes anyway. Does he really not own anything in his own apartment? He doesn't even have a bag or suitcase to keep it all together. He shivers in the biting morning chill. Desperate to escape the cold he periodically checks his phone. 5 am, pre sunrise. Vincent is so evil for arranging a pickup this time but he wanted everything done before his sons wake up so he can introduce them to Adrian. That's his excuse anyway, Adrian suspects he's just a bastard. He grabs his pink blankie from atop the clothes pile and wraps it around his shoulders like a cape. He's in a toasty cocoon now, perfect.

A freshly-buffed black limousine rolls up in front of them (a pretty standard car for this area) and a gruff-voiced chauffeur helps Adrian and Sebastian load up the back, casting occasional death glares at them. "I don't think he approves of you," Sebastian whispers in Adrian's ear, both of them losing themselves in silent laughter over this random hater of theirs. They wonder if he knows Adrian's profession. 

The chauffeur gives them a more intense death glare at that and Sebastian shuts up immediately. "He 'eard you," Adrian mouths, shaking with repressed giggles. 

"Well, off you go," Sebastian hugs him. "Invite me over as soon as you can, I cannot wait to see this mansion!" 

"I will, don' you worry," Adrian promises and he means it. 

The ride is silent, Adrian thankful for the visor separating him and the driver. There's a small bottle of wine and snacks in the door pocket but he doesn't know if he's allowed them, so leaves them alone. Besides Vincent seems like the kind of person to spy on anyone using his car and he keeps looking around for hidden security cameras. He just sits there like a statue until they arrive at the manor and Vincent is standing at the front gate waiting for him. His hair is perfect and his suit is pressed. How can he be so put together at this time in the morning? 

Between them they carry in all of Adrian's stuff and he's warned to be quiet because 'the kids are sleeping'. Adrian knows Vincent has two sons, twins he thinks, but knows nothing about them. "Wha' are their names?" he asks. 

"Ciel and Vincent Junior," Vincent explains. "We only planned for one, so didn't have another name planned and named the second twin after myself," 

Adrian chuckles, but realises something. "We? So they're your biological children..." he had assumed Vincent had adopted or something. He doesn't even know this man's sexuality! He should never have just assumed Vincent is gay, he wouldn't be the first 'totally not gay' guy to have been a patron of Midnight Sparkle. He feels like such an idiot. So he could be bi, pan, grey ace, homoflexible, heteroflexible. The possibilities are endless. 

"Yes... my wife tragically died in a fire..." Vincent trails off, staring at a random spot in the staircase and memorising the woodgrain pattern. He should know every inch of this house after all. "My son Ciel also lost his eye then," 

"Tha's 'orrible..." Adrian coughs awkwardly, leaning in and giving Vincent a side-hug that's even more awkward. 

"Yes, well. It's not the time to talk about such unpleasantness," Vincent firmly reminds himself. He doesn't cry, he seems incapable. The man speaks about everything in such a detached way Adrian wouldn't be surprised if he has no emotions whatsoever. He doesn't know how to feel about that, if their emotional connection is unequal. 

Vincent attends to waking up the twins as Adrian goes down to the kitchen under the main house. The chef is standing by the counter and gives him a long stare as he stands in the doorway. The man looks intimidating, like one of the guys who'd have bullied Adrian at school. Of course they all stopped once he broke their fingers. But the chef just grins widely. "Ah, you're the Master's new boyfriend!" he announces in a friendly tone. He walks up, sticking out a hand to introduce himself. Adrian instinctively flinches but then takes the offered hand. "I'm Baldroy, the manor's chef," 

 

"A-Adrian... yeah I'm Vincent's boyfriend," he looks at the ingredients set out. Everything is made fresh from scratch in this house but they're all arranged a bit haphazardly. Actually he'd go as far as to say they aren't 'arranged' at all. "Do you mind if I help? I can make good biscuits," 

"Oh! Uh, alright," Baldroy grins. "But if the twins hate them I'm blaming you," 

"Deal," 

The twins compliment the breakfast biscuits that morning, a welcome change from Baldroy's burned pancakes and mushy cereal. "Maybe I should have hired you as staff," Vincent jokes. 

"You eat weird," 

They all turn to Ciel. He's leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms, staring up at Adrian with a scrutinising gaze. "S-Sorry?" 

"I said you eat weird," 

"Uh..." he looks over at Vincent for a response. Vincent is kind of baffled too. But he can't deny his son has a point. Adrian covered both his biscuits in jam and cream and then licked it all off... and is now eating them plain again. 

"Who is this anyway dad?" Junior points to him. 

"Don't point, and this is Adrian. He's my boyfriend, he'll be living with us," 

"Oh like mum did. So he's your husband," Junior sneers, not sounding too impressed with Adrian's existence. 

Adrian chokes on his almond milk, making him cough until his eyes water. 

"Eheh, excuse him Adrian... anyway boys, what do you both think of him?" 

"He eats weird," Ciel states again. Vincent sighs. 

"And Junior?" 

Junior glares fixedly at Adrian with his one sapphire eye. He stands quickly in his adorably short-sleeved school uniform, grabbing his brother's hand. "Let's go to the car. We're going to be late for the school," he states in an angry tone, yanking Ciel along with him to the front of the house. Adrian curls in on himself, Vincent clenches his jaw in worry. 

In the car Junior plays with his Rubix cube while Ciel goes over his homework notes from last night. They sit silently opposite one another. "Why do you hate Adrian?" Ciel asks. "He's weird but he makes dad happy. Didn't you see him smiling?" 

"I don't get why dad needs a boyfriend. He has us, that should be enough!" 

"But he used to have us and mum," Ciel reminds him. "So he wants kids and he wants a boyfriend," 

Junior looks up at his brother. His perfect brother acting all serious, who never just accepts him and takes his side. Ciel pretends he's so clever and wise and everyone just buys his act, not him. Why can't Ciel understand his pain? He's never really felt any, Junior supposes. Not the pain of otherness. Everyone calls Junior weird and they fawn over his brother for his intelligence and maturity. Adults have proper conversations with him and treat them like one of their own while Junior is a spare. He doesn't even have a name! He just got stuck with his dad's stupid name because he's just an accident. 

"I just don't like him alright! Dad doesn't need a boyfriend," Junior shouts loudly to his brother, throwing his schoolbag into the seat beside him and turning to face it instead of Ciel. He angrily plays with his Rubix cube, making it click in protest as he forces each square to turn the way he wants them. Why isn't he enough for anyone?! 

Meanwhile, Vincent watches all this occurring on his monitor. He monitors everyone who uses his limo including the twins when he thinks there's something up. He honestly doesn't have a clue why Junior is acting this way. He seemed fine with the prospect of his father having another partner. Is it to do with their mother's death? It doesn't seem that way, Junior didn't even react badly when Ciel mentioned her. That means the problem is with Adrian in particular, as a person. But that doesn't make any sense either. All Junior knows about Adrian is that he makes good biscuits. That certainly isn't a reason to hate him. 

"Vincent?" he hears the timid voice form the hallway and puts away his camera before exiting the bathroom, smiling at his boyfriend. 

"Did you set up your bedroom?"

"That I did... bu'..." Adrian frowns and shuts up, staring at the floor under his hair. He hopes Vincent can't see how disappointed he looks because he really is grateful for all of this. 

"But what?" 

"It's nothing," 

Adrian feels Vincent's smooth hand grasp his chin, forcing him to look up into his eyes. The man surely can't see his eyes but he's still staring right at them as if he can see through the barrier of hair, like he has x-ray vision. It makes Adrian feel so exposed. Like he's permanently naked in front of Vincent. "Tell me," Vincent speaks calmly, softening his grip and simply caressing Adrian's face. It's soothing his nerves, this very loving touch. 

"I thought I'd be sleeping in your room," Adrian admits, backtracking immediately. "It's fine though! Really, brilliant room an' all..." 

Vincent laughs a little. "Ah, was that all? Of course I want you in my room! I just thought you'd prefer your own space. Alright, we'll get your stuff moved. MeY-Rin!" he calls down the dark hallway. From a room on the left emerges a maid walking clumsily. She's dressed like an old-fashioned maid in a puffy dress and bonnet. Her eyes are hidden by the reflective glare of thick round glasses. 

"Yes sir!" she salutes Vincent dramatically. Vincent smiles. 

"Please move everything set up in the end room to my own room, just put everything away where there's space," he instructs. 

"Bu- MASTER!" Mey-Rin whines shrilly, acting practically like a child. Like a girl the twins' age. "I just filled up that room yes I did!"

Her vernacular isn't like Adrian's but he knows a ruffian when he sees one. She's from the North East like he is, some council estate with high crime rates. She's underclass too and he feels a bit better not being the worst-spoken person in the household.  

"Please Mey-Rin, I know you have your own duties but this is important to me," Vincent explains with a sigh. He holds out his hand and grasps Adrian's, making both he and Mey-Rin blush hotly. "This is my boyfriend who's moving in, and it's his things," 

"Oh Master that's wonderful!" Mey-Rin claps. "I'll 'ave his stuff moved right away! Ooh this is so exciting!" she fangirls over them. "That's it, you two are my new OTP!" 

"Mine too," Vincent chuckles. 

"I like Iideku..." Adrian admits, not really understanding the conversation. 

"Oh my God he's so precious!" Mey-Rin rushes off to move Adrian's things as promised. Once she's gone Adrian has a question. He has millions of course, he knows so little about all of this. But one in particular is at the forefront. 

"How many staff do you have?" 

"Just four, love. Not counting the chauffeur. Baldroy our chef and Mey-Rin you know. I also have a butler named Tanaka and a gardner named Finny," 

"Wow... that seems so few for such a big estate!" Adrian exclaims. It really is, this kind of house should be staffed by 100! 

"Well my staff are... very skilled," Vincent smirks, leading Adrian to their now shared bedroom. It's dark and the bed is four-poster dark oak, with a desk and mirror opposite. Very large and very minimalist, nothing like Adrian's tastes. Thankfully light streams in through tall Victorian windows. "You stay here too now, you any changes you'd like to make I'm on board with?" 

"R-Really?" Adrian asks. "Anything?" 

"Of course," Vincent nods. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes love. Tell me what you'd like," 

"In that case..." Adrian's entire being quivers with nerves. Even his fucking soul. "Can we make it all pink?!"


	7. Chapter 6

Adrian and Sebastian lounge on Sebastian's couch drinking and watching the new season of  Stranger Things. The latter is redecorating since Adrian left and what used to be a fluffy grey seat is now cold dark leather. It's a hateful downgrade. Sebastian explains how he's turning Adrian's old bedroom into an 'office' so he can entertain clients here and is converting part of the living room into an actual office to monitor and grow the escort service. Better than getting a new roommate he might hate. 

"Aren' you worried about clients knowin' where you live though?!" Adrian whispers despite them being alone in the house. Sebastian smirks. 

"There've been a surge of violent crimes in the area recently - to protect the high class residents of these apartments a guard comes at night along with the buzzer system," he drawls, tired of explaining this. He's been asked the same question by lots of different people. 

"Still..." Adrian hums. He doesn't want Sebastian to be in any danger, anymore than the escort service already promises. There are so many risks associated in this business and he doesn't want creepy stalkers added to the list. "Be careful, a'ight?" 

"Yes, Adrian. I will be careful," 

Adrian jumps on Sebastian's lap, holding his hands and swishing back his hair. Forcing Sebastian to stare into his eyes he flashes him a hard, unmistakably Undertaker-esque stare. "Promise me," 

"I promise," Sebastian sighs. "You know The Undertaker thing doesn't work on me," he scoffs though his hands shudder slightly in his gloves and he's no longer so relaxed. 

"I wonder if dear Vincent's finished your bedroom yet," The Undertaker checks the time, the twins got out of school an hour ago. He stands before Sebastian and elegantly bows. "I bid you adieu, dear Sebastian," 

"Bye," he waves disinterestedly. Adrian whisks on his tophat and cloak. It billows behind him as he walks downstairs. 

When he arrives there are white vans parked near the doorway with logos on them advertising a painting and decorating firm. He imagined Vincent to hire uppity interior designers but it's nice to see e's employed a cheap, local business. Adrian approaches the staircase when just before he knocks on the front door it wings open violently. "Ah! - You startled me!" he pouts up at Vincent who's standing in the doorway. He's holding the twins' hands on either side of him. 

Adrian tries to enter the manor but Vincent pushes him back out the door. 

"No - no, it isn't ready yet!" he whirls Adrian around and they start towards a car waiting by the gate. "We're leaving, we can kill time at the arcade," 

"I -" Adrian catches Ciel's warning eyes from below. The 1000 yard stare is a clear warning: don't deny Vincent his arcade time. "...Alright. Le's go," 

*

 

Vincent sits furiously at the arcade machine. It's a solitaire machine on a screen and he's having a frustratingly unlucky night. As in a 10-0 lose streak. Having taken enough crap from this machine, he slams his hand on the pad, smashing it and scaring the shit out everyone in the bar. This includes Adrian, Ciel and Junior who sit around a small table exchanging concerned glances. An exasperated manager walks around the bar, yelling profanities at him. "That's it, you're banned mate - out," he starts manhandling Vincent to the door. Tentatively Adrian rises, Ciel and Junior shake their heads at him to remain at the table. 

"Oh come now, I'm sorry," Vincent whines. "It was a losing streak, you must understand," 

Vincent pulls a chequebook from his pocket and scribbles something out. Tearing off the page he hands it to the manager. The manager looks like he's going to pass out for half a brief second before his face falls to stone. "Sorry for troubling you," his eyes flash to the cheque. "Mr Phantomhive," before scuttling off behind the bar once again. 

"W-What happened?" Adrian gulps, imagining something terribly shady must have gone down. 

Vincent sits at the table. "We came to an understanding - I simply reimbursed him for the machine and then some," 

"You-" Adrian begins, but he has nothing. This ludicrous man is just... he decides to always expect the unexpected from Vincent and subsequently never question anything strange that happens with him ever. "What now?" he asks instead. 

"What do you mean 'what now'?" Vincent laughs. "We have an entire arcade of amusements to try!" 

Ciel rolls his eyes and hops down from the chair, tugging Vincent's trouser leg. "Gonna go play the Wii games," 

"Okay," Vincent searches his pants for change - he has an entire jar's worth of change stuffed into his pockets 24/7 for the arcade - and hands it to his kids. They say 'thank you!' in unison and it gives Adrian the creeps. He shudders at the mirror-image children walking away, they even  walk with the same pattern and it reminds him of The Shining. A horror movie date night would be magical with Vincent...

"You've been eyeing the pool table in the bar haven't you?" Vincent wiggles his eyebrows, turning to fleetingly gesture to the pool table standing in the centre of the small nautical-themed bar. 

"I..." Adrian's face heats in a deep blush. Is he sweating? He can't even tell, shrinking back into his seat. "Yeah, but I'm not amazing..." 

"I'd like to judge that for myself," Vincent holds out his hand and leads Adrian to the pool table, paying for the balls to clatter in the dropbox. He sets up the triangle as Adrian watches uncomfortably. Adrian doesn't mind playing pool, he really doesn't. But his relationship with Vincent will melt away and he'll be left with The Undertaker, a competitive asshole who'll do anything to win and. If that happens... he can't be held responsible. 

"I- I'm a bit um... competitive," Adrian warns as Vincent hands him a pool cue. It slips from his hand a little. Adrian orders double whiskeys and drinks his in one shot. He'll need it, he thinks as he gulps it deeply. Vincent goes first, he pots stripes. Taking his second shot, he misses. 

"Damn," he chuckles. "Your turn," 

Adrian sits on the edge, staring down the cue. The world blurs, it could be on fire for all he cares. The cue is the barrel of a gun, the hole a target and he is a sniper. The white ball a bullet and the green a gaping wound. Bang. He taps it so gently it could have been just the wind. The white rolls forward torturously slow and taps the ball, it sinks. 

"Woo!" Vincent cheers from his barstool, clapping loudly. 

Adrian glares at him, it's distracting. Vincent pauses, frozen in mid air. Adrian... glared at him. His entire body feels numb, colder than ice. Is this death? It's like standing before the grim reaper himself on your day of reckoning. He snaps his mouth shut to hide a smirk. This is very interesting. He knew there was a reason he was drawn to Adrian and this is it. The man is full of surprises. 

Now the bar is quiet, he can concentrate. He sinks his second ball. This time Vincent just watches curiously, another 2 men from the booth come over to watch too. He sinks a third, fourth, fifth. Adrian has amassed a small audience. He sinks the 8 ball and wins without interruption, Vincent doesn't even get another turn. Standing, Vincent watches his eyes shimmer their odd colour under the light. Velvet green walls reflect them, they look like fireflies in the darkness. "That was fun," Adrian tosses the cue carelessly on the table. His eyes search the bar. "Anyone want to play winner stays on?" 

Before Adrian can get dozens of volunteers Vincent drags him from the bar. Once they've turned the corner and can be drowned out by the blinking lights and noises of the arcade, Adrian rips his arm from Vincent's grasp. "What?!" Adrian demands, huffing and pissed off. "I had an audience, I could have won more games!" He crosses his arms and pouts at the floor. Vincent steps back, actually very scared for a second. Before a calm settles over him - this is just a tantrum. He stands tall, even if he can't be as tall as Adrian. 

"Never assume anybody but me is worth your attention," Vincent orders in a voice so calm, Adrian falters. The man is so in control of himself, so dignified. It makes him look irration, makes him feel inferior.

"I- I'm so sorry!" Adrian retreats in on himself, wringing his hands. He mutters a million apologies as Vincent collects the twins and they return to the manor. 

Upon arrival Adrian crashes into Vincent's bed, hiding his face in his arms and sobbing. He made such a fool of himself. He hurt his Vincent. Nobody is allowed to hurt his Vincent not even him. He feels a warm duvet wraps around his cold appendages. Looking up, he sees Vincent cocooning him into a thick duvet. 

"You felt cold," Vincent's breath is so close to his ear. Adrian can't respond, he tenses and grips the sheets. "The room is beautiful in pink, you made a good choice," 

Adrian peeks up from the pillows and notices the bedroom is varying shades of pastel pink, even the bedsheets are a light rose. He tears up, for a different reason this time and relaxes a little in Vincent's grasp. This is his home too, Vincent accepts him. What a strange concept, it feels so alien to be loved for who he is rather than a perception of him, or rather than the Undertaker. Everyone seems to like The Undertaker better, Not even another personality, just a fake. A fabrication of one singular emotion - rage - manifested into some faux identity to which he gives a title not a name. 

This bedroom is just for him, though. Just for Adrian. 

Oh and Vincent too of course. 


	8. Chapter 7

"Where's dad?" Ciel gives Adrian a deadpanned stare. They realised today was a write off when they return to the mansion after school and saw not their father awaiting their return with warm smiles and hugs but this nervous wreck wringing his hands shaking with nerves. He's sitting on their couch, eating their biscuits and drinking their tea. Neither twin is impressed and they exchange looks of vexation at the odd man who's just taken over their house. Junior is especially irked, clenching his fist and glaring at Adrian with a dark shadow looming under his fringe and over his one working eye. He looks like he might explode. 

"Oh! Um..." Adrian jumps like he wasn't prepared for the question and they caught him off guard. He's sweating and tapping his foot on the ground. His should be helping his nerves according to every anxiety coping mechanism ever but it isn't working. 

"Your father 'ad a meeting with an investor - y'know, being a businessman an' all..." he trails off, eyes darting every which way under his fringe. Lying sucks, he hates it just because he's terrible at it. He hopes his hair conceals his panicked stare like a deer caught in headlights. He's usually great with kids but these are Vincent's kids and are a Hell of a lot higher on the social hierarchy of this house than he is. Additionally, having been talking to Mey-Rin all day the children are more ruthless and terse than their father and certainly not what he's used to dealing with. So far her warning is frighteningly accurate. 

The twins scowl. They know what this is and aren't fooled by their father's pitiful attempts at sneaky parenting. Vincent is giving them some 'quality time' with his new toy to get them acquainted and see if they can't find some common ground to bond over while he fucks off to the arcade, his favourite place to go to skip parenting. Good luck getting them to find common ground with this guy, the man is a quivering mess and is so far removed from the twins he might as well be an alien. Junior crosses his arms over his chest. "Well? Are you going to do our homework then?" he asks as if such a thing is expected of Adrian.   
"What?" 

"If dad isn't here you have to do our homework instead," he explains like Adrian asked a stupid question "Dad always does our homework," 

Ciel gives his brother a disapproving look but doesn't say anything against it. He deserves this person to have to work to win him over - this man thrown randomly into his life he's supposed to just welcome for no reason. No. Just like respect, acceptance is earned. "Yes, you do that while we play chess," they rummage through their bookbags and procure notebooks bound in leather held closed by metal-buckled straps. Junior's is blue nd Ciel's an off-putting army green. They hold the notebooks out to Adrian in unison, the illusion of seeing double with twins. Like creepy robots each minute action is mirrored. 

Adrian sits there staring, not taking the books. He leans back and as he does the hair falls from his face and reveals his eyes, bi-coloured and dancing in anticipation. Adrian is a master actor, he has to be for certain clients. His grin forms crooked and twisted. Time to let The Undertaker out to play, his performance skills are about to pay off. "Did you really expect me to fall for that one?" his long arm shoots out with impressive speed and force. He slaps the books from the twins' hands. Thick pages pressed in leather casing crash onto the carpet with a low thud. The twins' eyes lock onto the books for a moment, then their hands and then him. Shocked - did that really just happen? - they squirm uncomfortably in their seats. 

Adrian's exterior is cold, confident and intimidating. On the inside he's just hurt. He didn't expect the twins to be happy to see him but he expected a better reception than randomised threats of 'do our homework or we'll hate you forever'. He has to commend the boys - he can see Vincent doing that in a business negotiation. This isn't a business negotiation and he isn't going to demean himself to beg for the acceptance Vincent's kids. He isn't that desperate to win anyone over. "You're both smart and ruthless - those are things about your father that I just can't get enough of. But you're both also childish. You realise I'm not your enemy and want to get along - I genuinely want to be friends!" 

Junior's shock falls to a pout. He's just mad, not at Adrian or his father or brother. He doesn't really feel anything towards Adrian and doesn't enjoy taking his anger out on him. He's jealous of his brother but detached enough not to care. His father? Well he can forgive anything Vincent does. Vincent is his hero. Unfortunately he isn't developed enough to recognise his anger at the simple concept of injustice and settles for taking all his problems out on his man who feels like an intruder in his life. "You might but we don't! Right Ciel?" he nudges his brother. 

The Undertaker quirks an eyebrow and crosses his legs the opposite way. Basic Instinct style but fully dressed. 

Ciel calmly scrutinises Adrian - eyeing him up and down, tilting his nose up as if examining a cockroach under his shoe. Adrian is actually kind of uneasy around this kid under this façade. Junior doesn't smile but Ciel wears a permanent smug sneer like his medal of honour which is a lot creepier. "What a useless friend," he states quietly and slowly, calculating the weight of every word. He leans back on the reclined seat and crosses his legs the way Vincent does and stares with those intense sapphires right through Adrian's soul. It makes him quiver. 

Ciel, ever the little capitalist, calculates everything by their use value. His brother. His toys. His peers. Is object X useful enough to waste his time on, or even acknowledge? Apparently Adrian isn't. They fixate on one another. This is a battle of wits between Adrian and Ciel but one of them is an entire manifestation of life experience and the other is a fake persona created to exist for 15 superficial seconds between stages of foreplay. 

Vincent gets home to find Adrian melted in a heap on the floor, curling his legs to his chest and hiding behind his thick fringe. "Could someone not handle being interrogated by children?" he teases with amusement. Adrian sobs into a cushion. Bending down he picks Adrian up bridal style, kissing his forehead before resting him down along the couch. "Don't worry, they do this with everyone they meet. They're just protective of me," 

"But they're both so mean!" 

"Don't take my children's insults too personally. They're still grieving," Vincent sighs, sitting down and letting Adrian's head fall into his lap. He treats him like a pet or young child, stroking down his soft hair to comfort him. "Let them know you're here as my boyfriend and nothing more. Not their replacement mother or a babysitter for when I'm not here. The last thing they need is another random adult introduced to their lives without explanation. Be their ally - be a friend they can confide in. Watch movies with them I wouldn't let them watch. Give them cake. Keep their secrets. That way they'll trust you," 

Adrian hums in pleasure at the tender hand on his hair. It makes him feel like purring. "How do you know so much?" he inquires with loving admiration in his voice. "It seems like you have everything figured out!" 

Vincent laughs at that. "Oh Adrian dear you overestimate me - I don't have anything figured out!" 

Adrian laughs softly and sits up, hugging Vincent around his shoulders and kissing his cheek. He keeps kissing along until he reaches Vincent's ear, nibbling on it and licking along his neck. "That tickles," Vincent whines. "No, wait until we get to bed," 

"Our bedroom is boring though," he whines and buries his face in Vincent's chest. "It isn't pink yet and you promised me," 

"The decorator is coming tomorrow," Vincent assures him with a kiss. "So visit Sebastian and stay out of the way so he can work alright?"   
"... Alright," Adrian agrees with a pout. 

"Good," he smiles and carries a still objecting Adrian to the bedroom and drops him on the bed. "Stay," 

He stalks off to read the twins their bedtime story. While he's gone Adrian puts his hair in a ponytail and changes into some soft pyjamas he discovered in a drawer somewhere. When Vincent returns he sees Adrian draped across the bed reading a book he found on the windowsill wearing a high ponytail and comfortable fluffy sweater pyjamas. On the pyjama shirt is a unicorn embroidered using pastel threat. Pink horn, teal mane and sapphire eyes. His hooves are golden and just in case you couldn't tell the word 'UNICORN' is also stitched in cursive underneath. 

Vincent returns, turning of the light. He steps forward, his form distorted by the shadow of the four-poster bed against the moonlight. Half of his face is visible and the other half shrouded in darkness, he looks like a creature of the depths rising from under the ocean, one sliver of flesh becoming visible each second. He notices Adrian's ponytail and that he's changed outfits. "I thought I told you to stay, did you disobey me Adrian?" 

"I- I'm sorry Vincent," Adrian squeaks and lifts his legs up on the bed, blushing deeply. 

Vincent is entirely ready to teach Adrian a lesson when he stops in his tracks. The long, straight ponytail curled up n his bed, these pyjamas and that book. It's a disturbing nostalgia that shakes his system. His entire body shudders, his eyes filling with tears. Overwhelming grief overcomes him and he falls to the floor in a ball of tears. 

"Vincent?" Adrian places his book down and runs up, bare feet sinking into the thick carpet. He places his hands on Vincent's shoulders, looking without comprehension down at the crippled man before him. Vincent crying doesn't compute. Vincent vulnerable doesn't compute - he's the strongest person alive, he is everything. He is the concept of beauty itself. How can he be crying? It's an injustice! "What happened, why are you crying?" 

Knowing he needs to be strong, Vincent wipes away his tears and stares up at his love. He fixes a stray strands of hair behind Adrian's ear. "My dear, you just reminded me how lovely it is to have something in my bed with me. How lonely I have been and how much I have missed this feeling,"

Adrian feels bad. He didn't mean to upset Vincent and leads the mess back to his bed. Vincent is a great little spoon actually (well he is short) and Adrian wraps his arms around him tightly, pulling him close to his chest. He kisses up his neck again but this time soothing Vincent with slow circles rubbed into his torso. "You're okay, I'm 'ere. I'll make your every night lovely because you deserve so much more than to cry over lil ol' me,"


	9. Chapter 8

Adrian and Sebastian lounge on Sebastian's couch drinking and watching the new season of  _Stranger Things_. The latter is redecorating since Adrian left and what used to be a fluffy grey seat is now cold dark leather. It's a hateful downgrade. Sebastian explains how he's turning Adrian's old bedroom into an 'office' so he can entertain clients here and is converting part of the living room into an actual office to monitor and grow the escort service. Better than getting a new roommate he might hate. 

"Aren' you worried about clients knowin' where you live though?!" Adrian whispers despite them being alone in the house. Sebastian smirks. 

"There've been a surge of violent crimes in the area recently - to protect the high class residents of these apartments a guard comes at night along with the buzzer system," he drawls, tired of explaining this. He's been asked the same question by lots of different people. 

"Still..." Adrian hums. He doesn't want Sebastian to be in any danger, anymore than the escort service already promises. There are so many risks associated in this business and he doesn't want creepy stalkers added to the list. "Be careful, a'ight?" 

"Yes, Adrian. I will be careful," 

Adrian jumps on Sebastian's lap, holding his hands and swishing back his hair. Forcing Sebastian to stare into his eyes he flashes him a hard, unmistakably Undertaker-esque stare. "Promise me," 

"I promise," Sebastian sighs. "You know The Undertaker thing doesn't work on me," he scoffs though his hands shudder slightly in his gloves and he's no longer so relaxed. 

"I wonder if dear Vincent's finished your bedroom yet," The Undertaker checks the time, the twins got out of school an hour ago. He stands before Sebastian and elegantly bows. "I bid you adieu, dear Sebastian," 

"Bye," he waves disinterestedly. Adrian whisks on his tophat and cloak. It billows behind him as he walks downstairs. 

When he arrives there are white vans parked near the doorway with logos on them advertising a painting and decorating firm. He imagined Vincent to hire uppity interior designers but it's nice to see e's employed a cheap, local business. Adrian approaches the staircase when just before he knocks on the front door it wings open violently. "Ah! - You startled me!" he pouts up at Vincent who's standing in the doorway. He's holding the twins' hands on either side of him. 

Adrian tries to enter the manor but Vincent pushes him back out the door. 

"No - no, it isn't ready yet!" he whirls Adrian around and they start towards a car waiting by the gate. "We're leaving, we can kill time at the arcade," 

"I -" Adrian catches Ciel's warning eyes from below. The 1000 yard stare is a clear warning: don't deny Vincent his arcade time. "...Alright. Le's go," 

*

Vincent sits furiously at the arcade machine. It's a solitaire machine on a screen and he's having a frustratingly unlucky night. As in a 10-0 lose streak. Having taken enough crap from this machine, he slams his hand on the pad, smashing it and scaring the shit out everyone in the bar. This includes Adrian, Ciel and Junior who sit around a small table exchanging concerned glances. An exasperated manager walks around the bar, yelling profanities at him. "That's it, you're banned mate - out," he starts manhandling Vincent to the door. Tentatively Adrian rises, Ciel and Junior shake their heads at him to remain at the table. 

"Oh come now, I'm sorry," Vincent whines. "It was a losing streak, you must understand," 

Vincent pulls a chequebook from his pocket and scribbles something out. Tearing off the page he hands it to the manager. The manager looks like he's going to pass out for half a brief second before his face falls to stone. "Sorry for troubling you," his eyes flash to the cheque. "Mr Phantomhive," before scuttling off behind the bar once again. 

"W-What happened?" Adrian gulps, imagining something terribly shady must have gone down. 

Vincent sits at the table. "We came to an understanding - I simply reimbursed him for the machine and then some," 

"You-" Adrian begins, but he has nothing. This ludicrous man is just... he decides to always expect the unexpected from Vincent and subsequently never question anything strange that happens with him ever. "What now?" he asks instead. 

"What do you mean 'what now'?" Vincent laughs. "We have an entire arcade of amusements to try!" 

Ciel rolls his eyes and hops down from the chair, tugging Vincent's trouser leg. "Gonna go play the Wii games," 

"Okay," Vincent searches his pants for change - he has an entire jar's worth of change stuffed into his pockets 24/7 for the arcade - and hands it to his kids. They say 'thank you!' in unison and it gives Adrian the creeps. He shudders at the mirror-image children walking away, they even  walk with the same pattern and it reminds him of _The Shining_. A horror movie date night would be magical with Vincent...

"You've been eyeing the pool table in the bar haven't you?" Vincent wiggles his eyebrows, turning to fleetingly gesture to the pool table standing in the centre of the small nautical-themed bar. 

"I..." Adrian's face heats in a deep blush. Is he sweating? He can't even tell, shrinking back into his seat. "Yeah, but I'm not amazing..." 

"I'd like to judge that for myself," Vincent holds out his hand and leads Adrian to the pool table, paying for the balls to clatter in the dropbox. He sets up the triangle as Adrian watches uncomfortably. Adrian doesn't mind playing pool, he really doesn't. But his relationship with Vincent will melt away and he'll be left with The Undertaker, a competitive asshole who'll do anything to win and. If that happens... he can't be held responsible. 

"I- I'm a bit um... competitive," Adrian warns as Vincent hands him a pool cue. It slips from his hand a little. Adrian orders double whiskeys and drinks his in one shot. He'll need it, he thinks as he gulps it deeply. Vincent goes first, he pots stripes. Taking his second shot, he misses. 

"Damn," he chuckles. "Your turn," 

Adrian sits on the edge, staring down the cue. The world blurs, it could be on fire for all he cares. The cue is the barrel of a gun, the hole a target and he is a sniper. The white ball a bullet and the green a gaping wound. Bang. He taps it so gently it could have been just the wind. The white rolls forward torturously slow and taps the ball, it sinks. 

"Woo!" Vincent cheers from his barstool, clapping loudly. 

Adrian glares at him, it's distracting. Vincent pauses, frozen in mid air. Adrian... glared at him. His entire body feels numb, colder than ice. Is this death? It's like standing before the grim reaper himself on your day of reckoning. He snaps his mouth shut to hide a smirk. This is _very_ interesting. He knew there was a reason he was drawn to Adrian and this is it. The man is full of surprises. 

Now the bar is quiet, he can concentrate. He sinks his second ball. This time Vincent just watches curiously, another 2 men from the booth come over to watch too. He sinks a third, fourth, fifth. Adrian has amassed a small audience. He sinks the 8 ball and wins without interruption, Vincent doesn't even get another turn. Standing, Vincent watches his eyes shimmer their odd colour under the light. Velvet green walls reflect them, they look like fireflies in the darkness. "That was fun," Adrian tosses the cue carelessly on the table. His eyes search the bar. "Anyone want to play winner stays on?" 

Before Adrian can get dozens of volunteers Vincent drags him from the bar. Once they've turned the corner and can be drowned out by the blinking lights and noises of the arcade, Adrian rips his arm from Vincent's grasp. "What?!" Adrian demands, huffing and pissed off. "I had an audience, I could have won more games!" He crosses his arms and pouts at the floor. Vincent steps back, actually very scared for a second. Before a calm settles over him - this is just a tantrum. He stands tall, even if he can't be as tall as Adrian. 

"Never assume anybody but me is worth your attention," Vincent orders in a voice so calm, Adrian falters. The man is so in control of himself, so dignified. It makes him look irration, makes him feel inferior.

"I- I'm so sorry!" Adrian retreats in on himself, wringing his hands. He mutters a million apologies as Vincent collects the twins and they return to the manor. 

Upon arrival Adrian crashes into Vincent's bed, hiding his face in his arms and sobbing. He made such a fool of himself. He hurt his Vincent. Nobody is allowed to hurt his Vincent not even him. He feels a warm duvet wraps around his cold appendages. Looking up, he sees Vincent cocooning him into a thick duvet. 

"You felt cold," Vincent's breath is so close to his ear. Adrian can't respond, he tenses and grips the sheets. "The room is beautiful in pink, you made a good choice," 

Adrian peeks up from the pillows and notices the bedroom is varying shades of pastel pink, even the bedsheets are a light rose. He tears up, for a different reason this time and relaxes a little in Vincent's grasp. This is his home too, Vincent accepts him. What a strange concept, it feels so alien to be loved for who he is rather than a perception of him, or rather than the Undertaker. Everyone seems to like The Undertaker better, Not even another personality, just a fake. A fabrication of one singular emotion - rage - manifested into some faux identity to which he gives a title not a name. 

This bedroom is just for him, though. Just for Adrian. 

Oh and Vincent too of course. 


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Warning ⚠️

The next morning Adrian wakes up to Vincent having already gone and left him alone in the big pink room. It reminds him of a chateau, even the glitter patterns on the walls like battlements. On Vincent's pillows rests a note addressed to 'Adrian', his name written as if by a calligrapher in stunningly precise Eutemia 1. It looks like he used real ink with a metal-headed quill - there's a line of faint dusting across the letters where the ink hadn't yet dried. Vincent is left handed so it's expected. Inside the letter is written in his normal handwiritng and signed 'The Phantom'. It just details Vincent's absence beign as he's visiting the railroad offices in central London as well as the shipping ports for some negotiations. What psychopath puts this much effort into an FYI?! Adrian doesn't feel like asking. 

The letter also instructs Adrian to get the twins up - fed, clothed and out the door for school. A daunting task that fills him with great dread. The kind of dread you feel before going on a perilous voyage to Mordor. But a reward is heavily implied at the end of the letter so he can deal. Getting dressed himself, he pulls his hair back in a lazy ponytail and brushes his fringe down with his fingers. 

The manor is dark all around, especially the inner corridors that are completely windowless, the ones where time doesn't exist. Night and day are irrelevant, nothing penetrates these walls. He approaches the twins' bedroom door. Apparently Vincent had tried to give them their own bedrooms but they preferred sleeping together in a wide queen bed. He knocks the door first, barely audibly. He feels like a vampire sneaking into an uninvited house, like he'll burst into flames if he touches the doorknob. With a final, tiny sob he throws the door open to the dark room. 

He flicks on the light switch and sees the twins under the duvet. Ciel is lying on his back, flat. Junior is curled up in the foetal position. His eyepatch isn't on and Adrian can see the open socket staring back at him like a black hole. "M-Mornin'... uh wake up," he whispers, blinking. He's more surprised than he should be when it doesn't work. Of course it doesn't, he whispered. 

Approaching the bed with tremoring steps, Adrian shakes Ciel's shoulder. "W-Wake up, morning," he greets Ciel once his eyes open, stirring and rubbing them. Ciel sits up, face going blank at the sight of Adrian. All the emotion drains from his face. 

"Hmph, good morning," he wakes up Ciel who outright scowls at the sight of Adrian. They dress in their private school uniforms, those similar to sailor suits. Black blazers adorned in blue lapels with badges lining the collars - different ones depending which twin has earned what. Their maroon ties look very out of place against bright light blue, black, white and dotted badges in multiple colours. A straight man definitely designed these. Adrian fixes Ciel's eyepatch, he doesn't do it right the first time and some stray hairs get caught. 

Downstairs, Baldroy looks up with a grin. "A'right Adrian, Phan'omhives. Wait till ya see what I got this morning!" 

The twins sit unenthusiastically at the table, sharing looks of impassion. Adrian briefly remembers what Vincent told him: act like their ally, a confidant. Someone they can relate to. How exactly he's going to relate to these rich-ass kids he has no idea. Ciel  is calmly reading on his Kindle and Junior is driving a toy car along the edge of the table. It's hard for Adrian to remember these are just kids and not some tiny alien businessmen. He gets an idea. 

"Who wants cake for breakfast?" he asks. Not at all because he wants cake for breakfast...

"I do!" Junior answers immediately, his eyes wide an innocent, pleading for a morsel of sugary sweetness. All disdain dissolves from his brain to his tastebuds and he acts like any other regular child at the promise of sugar. Particularly cake and double-particularly angel cake. 

"Sounds good," 

"Eh? - 'as Vincent signed off on this?" Baldroy coughs. The cigarette falls from his mouth. 

"Of course," Adrian turns to the twins, hair flicked back and he winks cheekily. 

"Oh - yeah, dad said it was okay!" Junior beams, Ciel nodding along. He kinda wants cake for breakfast too. The twins watch in eager anticipation with wide smiles and sparkling eyes. A tiny squeal escapes Ciel, he thinks nobody notices but Adrian does. 

The only thing he can use is some Mug Cakes in the back of the cupboard - convenient. He pops them in the microwave and 30 seconds later - ta da! - removes two steaming cakes. Ciel takes the cookies flavour and Junior the chocolate as expected. Watching them eat quietly and happily makes his heart swell with a feeling he doesn't recognise. It isn't pride, maybe a specific offshoot. A paternal love, drawn to replicate this feeling in any way he can. He realises how much he's missed out until now by not having children. Now he has a chance to rectify that. 

Adrian catches himself smiling dreamily. His daydreams let him disassociate, absorbed in his thoughts. He imagines standing before a French chateau with turrets and stained glass windows painting with angelic figures. Vincent is on his hip in a wedding down adorned with pure white lilies, kissing him from below with a yellow orchid in his hair. Adrian wears a velvet violet suit with a light pink flower in his hair, pulled over his shoulder in a sidebraid. Ciel and Junior stand before them holding out fluffy velvet cushions upon which rest glittering silver wedding rings. Adrian's ring holds a black obsidian stone embedded in the centre, Vincent has a sapphire in his the colour of Ciel's eye. 

He's yanked reluctantly from his daydream. The colours are so dull here in comparison, he thinks. "A'right, are you finished? Get going," he grabs the twins' bags and holds them up for them to grab. Ciel and Junior exchange glances and smirk. 

"Hm," Ciel looks up at him. Adrian buckles under his entirely innocent stare. 

"Maybe you're not so useless," Ciel grabs his bag, Junior does too. They scamper through the hall and upstairs to the doorway. The awaiting car rolls away with a satisfied growl of the engine.

Maybe you're not so useless. That single phrase makes Adrian tear up. His body shakes with tiny sobs until a wide, warm hand rests on his shoulder. "You alright, mate?"  

He sniffles and wipes away his tears, hiding them under his hair. It comes in handy sometimes. "Y-Yeah, I'm alright..." 

"Great! Now come help me out with the lunch prep - for when the Masta' gets home," he grins and hands Adrian a knife longer than his forearm. "You're on veggies," 

 

* 

 

Vincent returns a couple of hours later, looking perfectly pristine despite having travelled and worked. Adrian would have been dishevelled after 5 minutes... although that could be a testament to his former profession. He meets Vincent at the door with a meek smile and a tiny kiss on the nose. "Welcome home, Vinny," 

"Vinny?" Vincent considers the name, taking Adrian's hand in his own. "That's cute," 

"Oh shut up," Adrian looks down to unsuccessfully hide his blush. 

They go downstairs where Baldroy is putting on his shabby hat, already wearing a thick tweed coat. It looks like something from the 40s in wartime - probably is, Adrian thinks. They talked over prepping and Baldroy told him his family has served in the military for 4 generations and he was an army chef like his grandfather was during WWII. Only once Baldroy's regiment suffered heavy casualties was he released on medical leave for CPTSD.

They got real, but only because cutting the onions made them emotional.  

"I'm off - catcha later!" he's also carrying a thin satchel of cheap faux leather. 

"Bye bye!" Adrian waves politely, sitting at the dining table with Vincent. Prepared are two bowls of Japanese stir fry. Prawns and vegetables in an intensely hot sauce with a side of rice. They talk about Vincent's work over sparkling wine and Adrian is reminded pleasantly of the first time they met. He was a complete wreck - he still is but at least Vincent incites comfort in him now, not fear. Nevertheless Vincent is a Phantomhive and some level of paranoia is necessary. 

They finish and Vincent drains the last of his glass. "Well, I have some stock issues to sort," he declares, sliding his thin laptop from his satchel. Adrian sits there stiff as a board, hanging his head in disappointment. 

"What?" Vincent inquires after a while of this strange behaviour. 

"Well you said in the letter that you'd reward me..." Adrian pouts. "I-It's fine... I'll just go," he motions to stand up and go for the door. A strong hand grips his wrists painfully tight and drags him back. He's pushed against the dining table, ass lifted to sit. Vincent kicks his legs open and stands in the gap. 

"How inconsiderate of me, dearest Undertaker," Vincent smirks, hovering over him. "Let me give you your deserved reward for following my instructions this morning..." 

With a rough kiss Adrian lies back on the table, Vincent lying on top of him. The grip on his wrists changes, both now held in one of Vincent's hands and pulled above his head, stretching his body up. At this point he's helpless. Any articulation he had converts to small whimpers when Vincent kiss his ear, haughty breath travelling down his neck. "Beautiful... your eyes are divine. You could be a God - not a God of death, bu the reaper himself," 

"A-Actually, I think the reaper is the God of-" 

Vincent shuts him up with another kiss. He breathes heavily, one hand roaming down Adrian's front until it reaches his crotch. Popping open the button on his jeans his boxers, and hard-on are exposed. 

Through his boxers, The Phantom strokes him slowly from shaft to hilt. Teasing him with each prod and squeeze and calculated pressure of each finger on his most sensitive areas. Gentle circles rubbed over the tender flesh make him shiver. Sliding a hand inside his boxers, The Phantom caresses the sensitive tip. Illicitly sweet nothings are whispered into his ear in the most seductive of deep, commanding voices. The Undertaker is drugged on pleasure, wandering in the paradise of Eden without a care in the world. 

With shaking breaths his eyes close, letting go of everything. The colours grow vibrant as they were in his dreams, streams of light brightening the world to an ethereal Heaven. A mellow high encompasses his mind, The Undertaker moans loudly as his consciousness exceeds this boring realm. The Phantom's talented hands continue their magic until he feels a strong throb in his palm, covering the tip to catch the warm seed in his hand. 

The Phantom lifts his coated fingers to The Undertaker's mouth, just brushing his lips with them. The Undertaker, down from his high, stares at them then into The Phantom's eyes. "Clean up. You can't expect me to swallow can you?" 

He's right. The Undertaker sucks himself. He would have preferred to taste the Phantom instead. Next time. 

In their nakedness, Vincent and Adrian lie along the futon, playing with each other's hair and cuddling close, intimately for the remainder of the afternoon. They're each other's pillow as they watch Stranger Things. No small warning prepares them for the door to swing open with a sudden crash. Standing there, hand on her hips and wearing an irritated expression is Madame Red. 

Adrian sees her as the Lady in Red. A burlesque Queen of the classiest sort. Even her hair, her eyes are scarlet like blood. He loves it on her. She stalks up to him and Vincent, exposed in their entirety. "Why did I have to find out from someone else that you have a boyfriend?!" she demands imperially. She looks honestly terrifying. 

Vincent sits up, covering himself with a cushion. "Adrian, this is Madame Red. My ex-sister in law," 

"Oh that's a mouthful, just call me Vincent's best friend!" she winks down at Adrian. "Vincent, he's a cutie! But so quiet! Does he even talk?" 

"Depends," Vincent hums, waving a hand before Adrian's face. A not of anxiety keeps any response tightly locked inside. "But maybe not now. You scared him I think," 

"Don't be scared of me!" she boldly sits down beside the naked man. Adrian wants to die - who has only 1 cushion on their futon?! - his hands aren't that big... "It's not your fault he neglected to mention you, you're not the one I'm angry with! I'm very nice when you get to know me!" 

"Indeed. But maybe he'd feel more comfortable with clothes on?" Vincent offers a hand which Adrian takes, helping him stand and leading him out the living room. 

"Aww alright. I've seen it all before though, I'm a doctor you know!" she calls after them, irritably (mentally) lamenting on the lack of refreshments offered since she's arrived.


	11. Chapter 10

**10 years ago**  

 

Sebastian tosses his leather jacket over the back of the chair, strolling through the dingy apartment. Outside, the desperate pleas of a dying city buzz around his ears like deafening radio static. His first apartment and it has to be in Peckham of all motherfucking places. He's been stabbed already since moving in here, for his strange appearance. This house sucks. His entire apartment is slathered thickly in black. The walls are sleek and reflect the red streetlamps outside - it bathes the apartment in a fiery hue like the depths of Hell. 

 

"Adrian?" he calls, frowning. It's been too silent since he arrived. 

 

"In here," 

 

He walks to the back bedroom where Adrian is lying in bed atop the covers. Headphones hang around his neck and a deep nineties grunge band can be heard distantly from the speakers. He's perusing a textbook. "Wha' d'you want?" Adrian asks. 

 

"Have you not moved since I left?" 

 

"When'd you leave?" 

 

"Ten hours ago," 

 

"Oh, then no," Adrian shrugs. Sebastian glares at him. 

 

"Get the fuck up you lazy prick," 

 

"I've been reading!" Adrian defends. "This bio textbook I got from the charity shop. An' I've been lookin' up an embalming course up in Edinburgh an'-" 

 

"Get the fuck over yourself!" Sebastian screams at him. "You're never going to be an undertaker, you're never going to own a funeral parlour. You're not a scientist, get fucking real!" he storms from the room, slamming the door behind him. Angrily stalking into the kitchen, he leans on the counter and smokes one of his many cigarettes of the day. 

 

Adrian comes in, more timidly. He hops on the counter opposite Sebastian, the wall behind him. "Gimme a cig, won't ya?" 

 

Sebastian tosses him the box and lighter, he slides one out, puts another behind his ear and throws the box back. They smoke in silence for a minute. "Put the kettle on, will you?" 

 

Sebastian stares at the kettle, then back to Adrian. "No, I don't think it'll fit me," 

 

Silence for a short second, then laughter. Laughter than rocks the entire apartment,. That sets car alarms off outside. Adrian clutches his sides and giggles uncontrollably until Sebastian stifles them with his hands. Clamping his hands over Adrian's mouth, the laughter still continues. People from outside and other apartments scream up at the window - do they not know what time it is?! - eventually though, Adrian settles down. His hair is dishevelled, he's drooling. He's been reduced to a hot mess. 

 

"- oh, you are funny Sebastian," he can't stop grinning, eyes glassy. Sebastian wonders if he's high. 

 

"I don't think I've ever seen you laugh before..." Sebastian comments in awe, and it's true. Adrian has a very specific kind of humour, This kind, apparently. It's the kind of thing Sebastian wouldn't even count as a joke. He'd roll his eyes. Being generous, he'd snort in amusement. 

 

"Hm, you're probably right," Adrian admits. "But now you known how to make it happen!" 

 

"Hm, indeed," he agrees, taking a final drag. "Now are you going to come into business with me or what?" 

 

"You want me to be a cheap fuck too?" 

 

Sebastian slams a wad of £200 on the counter beside him. "That's from sucking one guy off, once. Took 10 minutes. Imagine how much we could make with a real business together,"  

 

Adrian looks away for a second, fixated on the money. The cogs turn in his head, he calculates. He could just do this temporarily to make money for embalming school, then use it to fund a small funeral parlour. "Fine, I'll go into business with you. I better not freeze my ass on a street corner," 

 

Sebastian's eyes shine, or maybe it's the red apartment. A trick of the eyes. "I had something much classier in mind," 

 

*

 

**Present Day**

 

He lets Vincent dress him in private in the room. A knot of anxiety tangles in his chest. He can't speak to her, he wishes he could. He really wants to like Madame Red because Vincent likes her. He doesn't want to be impolite and feels like such a burden, forcing Vincent to do this for him. Honestly, Vincent is enjoying this highly. He finishes buttoning up a shirt for Adrian and kisses his forehead, wiping back his hair. "She's alright, Adrian. She's the twins' aunt. Family. And she really is a doctor - think you two will get along, you're both curious souls," 

 

"I-I can't..." he whispers, refusing to meet Vincent's haze. He isn't ashamed, the floor is interesting...

 

"You don't need to," Vincent assures him sincerely. Taking his hand, Vincent gently leads him into the foyer. 

 

Madame Red's high heels click on the wooden floors as she circles Adrian predatorily. She inspects every aspect of him like a tailor making minute adjustments to a dress pattern, unimpressed but nonetheless intrigued. Paying special attention to his hair and eyes. "You're scaring him," Vincent comments from his place on the couch. 

 

"Well Vincent - why didn't you introduce this cutie to me before?!" Madame Red puts her hands on her hips and demands an answer accusatorily. 

 

"I've been busy, he only moved in a few days ago. He's the one I mentioned before... when I was trying to get out there..." Vincent rests his head on his palm. staring up at her. Their gazes enhance a million words spoken in grief and sorrow, and recovery. And she accepts Adrian mentally at least. This is Vincent's salvation from the depression of Rachel's death. 

 

"I didn't expect you to date someone like this," she's being honest, shaking her head in confusion. Thinking of Rachel and herself, and even Vincent's previous boy-toys, Adrian doesn't fit. He's the opposite of what I've known you to go for," she assesses him. 

 

Adrian is right there! He shrinks in discomfort and offence. Her comments make him feel small, is he not what Vincent wants or likes? He wonders why he is the sudden exception to Vincent's tastes. "Now what's your name? You're certainly quite the exotic specimen. Strange - that hair and those eyes. Skin pale as snow..." 

 

"You're talking like a Disney villain, Madame Cruella de Red" Vincent snorts. "His name is Adrian," 

 

"Adrian," she places a single finger in the centre of her bright red lips, deep in exaggerated thought. Really like a Disney villain. "It fits you. A pretty name for a pretty man. And I can get you some Adderall for that anxiety disorder of yours," 

 

Adrian's eyes widen. "H-How did you...?" his stammer trails off. 

 

Madame Red turns to Vincent with a deep glare. "You didn't even tell him who I am! I'm having a talk with the twins and they're going to make your like a living Hell! My revenge will be sweet!" 

 

"He...t-t-tol' me, um..." Adrian mutters quietly, covering his mouth with his hand. He swallows. "He tol' me you're a docta," 

 

"Hmph," she crosses her arms over her chest. "Good - but that still isn't enough. I am your family Vincent and if anyone's deciding who's good for you its me," 

 

"Sorry, dearest Red, I wasn't thinking," he places a hand over his heart. "Please accept my sincere and profuse apologies," 

 

"Okay, but you're on thin fucking ice," 

 

She makes Adrian smile, he admires her for having the courage to yell at Vincent. "Also I'm going to say it's social anxiety along with GAD... maybe ASD too, are you autistic?" 

 

Adrian shrugs. 

 

"Hm," suspicion flickers in her eyes for a moment before turning back to Vincent and continuing to berate him. 

 

When the twins return from school they jump into the arms of their Aunt Red. "We missed you!" Ciel  tells her. "Will you babysit for us again?" 

 

"Well, I'll still come and visit all the time. Your father isn't getting rid of me so easily," she promises. "But I don't think I need to babysit you, now you have another friend in the home," she smiles over at Adrian, Vincent having explained the situation with the twins.

 

"But he's no fun!" Junior pouts.  

 

"Hey, actually he is," Ciel whispers, reminding him of their breakfast this morning. Indeed, Adrian is a powerful ally. He seems to have Vincent wrapped around his little finger... just look at the bedroom and you can see that! He could swing things in their favour quite a bit. He's like a big child. 

 

Adrian looks down at the kids and gets a highly amusing idea. "Okay, if I'm so not fun you surely won't be able to make me laugh..."

 

"What are you talking about exactly?" Vincent asks oddly. Adrian can get off on tangents sometimes. 

 

"Only one person in my life has ever been able to make me laugh and that's Sebastian, my best friend. It's so rare I find someone amusing enough to do so... are you up to the challenge?" 

 

He knows Ciel is highly invested and won't back down from a challenge. Junior won't either, more because he's insecure and defensive. 

 

"I'll accept that - this sounds like fun," Madame Red purrs and indeed the challenge begins. Each person has one shot, once they're out they're out. Any reaction other than a deadpan sociopathic stare from Adrian is considered a win. 

 

Red is immediately disqualified for her attempt, a story about her friends paying with dildos at a Hen Night that makes Adrian feel nauseous rather than laugh. Vincent has to cover the twins' ears for that one. She pouts in the background as Ciel makes his attempt. 

 

"Okay so a photon is going through the barrier at the airport. The border agent asks 'Do you have any baggage sir?" Ciel grins, cracking himself up. "And the photon says 'No, I'm travelling light!" 

 

Everyone in the manor that day will attest that it grew so silent, crickets began to chirp. 

 

Junior goes up for his turn. He tries to cheat. Logically if any reaction from Adrian is a win then he doesn't need to make him laugh, just scare him or something. He tries to spook Adrian by removing his patch and exposing his empty eye socket. Nice try, he's already seen it and isn't impressed. Then Junior tries to gross him out by grabbing his hand and trying to make him touch it - either Adrian has extremely strong willpower or he isn't grossed out by poking his hand through someone's insides. 

 

"Sorry lil one - cheaters never win," Adrian explains with satisfaction. 

 

Vincent's turn. So sexy stories don't work, smart jokes don't work. Avoiding any kind of pun would be wise. And trying to force a reaction like Junior is cheating. So Vincent channels his most dominant personality trait. 

 

"How many apples grow on a tree?" he asks Adrian. 

 

"What?" he tilts his head with visible confusion. "I don't know, how many?"

 

"All of them," 

 

Vincent steps back, grinning. Adrian mirrors it, his entire body shaking until he bursts out in laughter. The rafters shake and the foundations of the building crumble. A painting falls off the wall. Everyone has to cover their ears. "Oh - Oh my! That's hilarious my dear! You should be a bloody comedian, you should!" he praises Vincent with reverence. 

 

"Dad jokes are my specialty," Vincent winks at Madame Red, who's dumbfounded as anyone would be. "What's my prize for the challenge\?" 

 

"Well the challenge was to prove in fun," Adrian gives him a knowing look. "I guess you'll get that prize tonight,"


	12. Chapter 11

The weekend has never been a relaxing time for Adrian. Working with Sebastian, the weekend tended to be when he received the most customers and worked the longest hours. Neither he nor Sebastian had a maximum hours to work per week and if someone offered £200 at 11 pm on a Saturday night, he'd have gone to work at 11 pm on a Saturday night. Living with Vincent, he realises just how much free time he has now. Too much in fact. It's Friday night and with a deep sigh of disdain he checks his watch. He's been here over 2 hours. 

Everyone has something fun to do in the arcade except him. Ciel plays a coin slot machine, Junior plays Whack-A-Mole. Vincent is by the pool table in the open bar flaunting his smooth charisma for opponents, crushing them with his impressive talent. Well Adrian is banned from the pool table and blinking flashy lights and crowds of people hoarding over one poor player at a ticket-miner isn't his idea of a good time. He sits at a table in the bar, the surface of which is wet with some alcoholic-smelling beverage. He sips the cheapest cider he could find and stares at Vincent, it's the only thing stopping him dying of boredom. 

Observing Vincent play pool is like being the spectator at the Olympian finals. Each moment is expert and precise, he's absorbed by fierce competition with twists and turns in each blink of the eye. Such complex layers in Vincent's sadistic smirk for him to pick apart and preserve. The Phantom is a great ballerina, the way beauty radiates from his elegant form. Adrian could sit and stare at him for hours, and he is. He'll burn that image forever into his brain if it kills him. Vincet is so beautiful. 

"Hey, Adrian!" Ciel appears from behind and grabs his arm, breaking his concentration. "Come and win coins with us!" 

Discreetly Vincent looks over, giving him an encouraging smile. Adrian can admit when he's touched. The feeling of finally being accepted in some small way by Vincent's kids is like one step forward to being a real family. Or something cheesy like that, he grins to himself. "Alrigh', let's go my mini Phantomhives" he agrees, leaving the small trickle of foam behind in his glass and following Ciel through the crowds. 

Families are going home and the kids' game area is winding down for the night. He has space to walk around without fear or bumping into someone or knocking over a child and the absolute mortification that causes. Doesn't mean he doesn't think about it, stepping carefully between isles of games and staring at the floor - paranoid beyond compare of making a fool of himself. Once again reminded of why he hates the arcade. 

He reaches the coin slots which dispense both coins and sweets. The plate slides back and froth and with each coin added, some have the chance to spill over the side and you win! Dotted around are small, cheap sweets you can also win if they fall into the tray along with the coins. "Why'd you need my help?" he asks Junior who's furiously dropping coins into the slot at the rate of 500 per second. 

Ciel stands by the machine, watching his brother with a disappointed stare. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head as Junior continues to unsuccessfully bet. His money supply dwindles down to a meagre handful of ten-pence-pieces. "I believe it's rigged," Ciel explains. "He's been putting coins in left and right and the coins and sweets aren't even moving!" 

"Hm, indeed you're right." Adrian kneels down to see the stagnant coins and sweets at eye-level. Observing closer, there's a ridge that makes the coins pile up at the end without being able to fall over and into the ray. The machine is indeed rigged. "Well that's not fair at all," 

Adrian vows to avenge the customers this machine scams each night. He stands back up and looks around, realising this machine is facing the wall in a small, darkened corner. He grins. "Don' tell your father I showed you this alirgh'?" 

"Okay - make sure I get the lollipop," Junior nods. Anything to get his sought-after prize. He's ridiculously persistent when he wants something. Will do anything to get it, no matter the sacrifice. Adrian thinks it's a very Vincent-like quality, but he has to be smarter with it to get away with things like his father does.

Adrian looks around before bashing into the machine with his elbow. It jumps with a loud clatter and coins spill into the tray, along with Junior's sought after lollipop and some Haribo bags. "Mine!" Adrian snatches the bags up as a payment,. Junior gets his money back and the lollipop and Ciel takes the rest of the coins, just because they can't all fit in Junior's pockets. 

"Thanks Adrian!" Junior thanks happily, unwrapping it. 

However, not 2 seconds later the machine begins to flash red and an alarm sounds from it. A low male voice that sounds like it was recorded in the 60s scolds them. 'A machine has been breached. This is theft! An employee will be with you shortly, remain in place,' Nooo that's not happening. Adrian grabs the hands of Ciel and Junior and drags them through the bar. This only serves to alert the bartender even more. 

"Hey, were you at that machine?!" he demands, though Adrian only grabs Vincent roughly by the coat and pulls him through the crowd to reach the main games area where they have space to run to the front doors. The bartender chases them in a tirade of profanities. Adrian groans. What a horrid time to be dressed the way he is, a conspicuous tophat bobbing above people's heads. 

He rips through the main doors and into the large, desolate car park. It's sparsely lit by infrequent streetlamps and they rush to the other side, onto the main (ish) road where it's dark enough to escape. They aren't followed past the car park, because what could the bartender actually do if he catches them out here? He has no legal grounds. One they're out of sight of the building, they slow to a walk. Vincent, panting, asks what in Hell happened. Ciel brightly shows him their bounty of coins and explains. 

"You are in so much trouble when we get back," Vincent glares at Adrian. "You could have gotten my children hurt, the police called!" not to mention he can't show his face in the arcade anymore, and he needs to find a new place to hang out. 

"I-I'm sorry," Adrian tenses, the levels of discomfort almost painful. He feels like crying, an anger bubbling in his chest. This is exactly what Vincent told him to do! If he weren't so vague and actually made the limits clear this wouldn't have happened. Although Adrian realises he could never seriously fault Vincent for anything. He may have a sense of justice strong as steel but actually confront someone on their tyranny? Impossible, especially someone so exalting. If Vincent says he's to blame them he's to blame. 

They walk past the brightly lit McDonalds, takeaway place, nightclub, everywhere in this out-of-the-way seedy part of London that's still open so late. The car picks them up round Paddington and Vincent sits opposite Adrian in a gesture symbolic of his disapproval. He crosses his legs and stares him down the entire way, not taking his angrily scrutinising gaze off Adrian for a second. 

Adrian jumps. There's vibrating in his pocket, it's a few seconds before he realises it's his phone. Sliding his phone out, he sees Sebastian's work Caller ID BlackButler on the screen. That's odd, why would he be calling with that? Sliding sensor across, Adrian places it to his ear with a worried frown. "Sebastian?"

"A-Adrian..." 

"Are you alright?" Sebastian sounds afraid, he's always so confident, he never stutters. His breath comes in laboured gasp down the phone and his voice is strained. Has he been running?

Originally Vincent was made furious by Adrian's flippant answering of the phone in such a nonchalant way. He should be meek and overcome with remorse for taking away Vincent]s arcade, not chatting with Sebastian! But he watches Adrian listen with bulging eyes and a worried expression. He looks to be on the verge of crying. Vincent realises something may be amiss. Something serious is going down, he can tell by Adrian's eyes. 

The phone call ends and Adrian's gaze snaps to him. He's frozen for a split second until he slams down on the emergency stop button. The button is for when the visor is up and they need to stop the car immediately, without time to ask the driver. 

"What's going on?" Vincent asks with urgency. Now in panic mode, Adrian jumps out the car when they aren't even to a complete stop. Vincent quickly clicks on the speaker for the driver. 

"Take the twins home, stay on call in case we need picked up later," he drops it and without waiting for a response, runs out the car after Adrian. 

He doesn't know this street but it's well lit. He spots Adrian having ran quite far already and sprints to catch up."Stop! What the Hell?" his lungs burn with acidic flames. Still he follows Adrian until he's just close enough to grab his hood and yank him to a stop. "Adrian! Tell me what's going on now!" 

"Y-You're choking me!" Adrian croaks. Vincent carefully lets go of hos hood but holds his wrist so he doesn't run off again. In response, Adrian grips his finger and pries Vincent off him roughly. Vincent is forced to let go. squeezing tightly. The grip would be painful if Vincent wasn't in complete shock. Adrian... harmed him? That's like being beaten to death with a marshmallow. 

Adrian is still half-crying, his breathing is fast. He's having an attack. "I-It was Sebastian!" Adrian pants, trying to breathe from running and panic. "He needs my help, something happened!" 

"Fine, but I'm coming to help too," Vincent stipulates. Adrian nods, he could always use someone capable as Vincent to help. Sebastian was vague, he doesn't know how dangerous the threat is. 

He lets go of Vincent and they start running together. "We need to go to the subway and get to Marylebone," Adrian explains, taking his lover's hand and leading him through the maze of streets Vincent doesn't recognise "Sebastian, you're so stupid...I knew this would happen..." her whispers to himself, praying to some unseen entity that he hasn't already gone and gotten himself killed.


	13. Chapter 12

**2 Years Ago**

_Adrian stands in the middle of the street, hopping between his feet. He's got an appointment with a client soon... at the client's house! They agreed to meet in public but what exactly does that matter once they get back? He'll be entirely vulnerable then. Additionally, there was a ridiculous set of requirements in their request which means it would have been so much easier for them to just book a hotel rather than be weird and make him go through all this._

**_Midnight Sparkle Escort Services._ **

_\-- Name: John Kelly._

_\-- Requested Escort: The Undertaker._

_\-- Location: My flat. Meet at King's Cross station_. 

_\-- Time: 1400-1600 (£100)_

_\-- Additional Requirements: We'll be going back to my place - I'm 28 tall and sexy. Follow me to the bus stop but pretend we aren't getting on the bus together. Sit away from me. When we get off, pretend we aren't getting off together and follow me 20 paces behind.  Be quiet when entering my flat and discreet when you leave. (£25)_

_Geez, what a control freak. Adrian rolls his eyes and stares ahead, waiting for the self-proclaimed 'tall and sexy' man. He arrives and waves Adrian over. He is tall, but is maybe 68 not 28, and don't even get him started on 'sexy'. The guy looks terrible. Adrian follows him to the bus stop, standing beside him awkwardly._

_"Sorry about the requirements,... so many people I know around here, you know?"_

_"Mhmm," Adrian crosses his arms and looks away, just wanting this to be over. This guy is a paranoid idiot. What, it's going to look weird that you're... going home with a friend? What exactly are people you know going to call you out on? For walking with someone in public? John continues his incredibly awkward conversation with Adrian, the 5 minutes until the bus arrives feeling longer and longer by the second._

"So, are you in university?" 

_"No," Adrian scowls._

_"Not a student then?"_

_"No - oh look the bus is here," he sighs in relief and stands up, getting on the bus and indeed sitting a few seats away from John as per his request. After a few stops he sees John get off and follows him, cursing himself the entire way **.**_ You're an asshat, Adrian... why did you agree to this? Oh yeah, because Sebastian is neck-deep in capitalism. _He thinks._  

_He indeed follows John off the bus after a pleasantly silent ride, though this is a district he's only ever visited briefly and not this section exactly. Reaching the apartment, it's secluded, seedy and small, a tiny flat at the back of an old sandstone building. The flat is dark when John opens the door, smelling somewhat musty though clean. At least it's clean._

_He sits on the couch and John stands above him, letting this uncomfortable silence hang for far too long. "Do you want tea, Undertaker?"_

_"No," Adrian usually tries to be polite with clients, but he's being paid hourly and couldn't care less about a tip._

_His client slides into the seat beside him and he can't help cringe. An arm is wrapped around his shoulders, he squeezes his eyes closed. He wants to die. "So... do you have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend? Or...?"_

_"Nope," he starts kissing his client just to shut him up, to move this along faster. John pulls down Adrian's jeans and his own, sitting him in his lap. Adrian is too tall, it doesn't feel right._

_"What are these, hm?" John begins tracing the outlines of long, thin cuts across Adrian's thigh. The travesties of being pale, they appear so dark and distinct against his skin._

_"Nothing," he keeps kissing and eventually manages to force himself to complete his duties as an escort. It takes less than 20 minutes, he watches the clock the entire time. What to do now, exactly? The client paid for a full hour but finished quicker than Adrian's ever seen._

_John stands up and with the return of the awkwardness - coupled with a heavier feeling of shame - he hands Adrian the promised £125, with a £5 tip._

_"Thanks!" Adrian agrees, hastily leaving the stuffy apartment. Outside, he realises how nice fresh air feels once again, and fuck being discreet. He takes the stesp two at a time to the front door of the high-rise and onto the street._

_Returning home to Sebastian, he faceplants into his lap as is their tradition when he's completely wiped out from a client. "Why are you flatlining?" Sebastian chuckles. Adrian groans loudly._

_"From now on, client's houses and our house - you know what, houses in general - are off limits. Agreed?"_

_"Agreed," Sebastian laughs._

 

*

**Present Day**

 

Arriving at the luxury apartment building, Adrian and Vincent climb the four flights to Sebastian's apartment. which is so vast it might as well have a floor if its own. Adrian fumbles with his key, dropping it in his panic. No! Why does he have to succumb to his panic now! More to the point, Sebastian is an idiot. He should have kept their accord from before. Nothing good comes from mixing home and work. Standing back, he allows Vincent to kick open the door with the summoning of strength befitting a demon. It'd be terribly sexy if panicked alarms weren't sounding off in his brain and causing a pandemonium of simultaneous anxiety attacks. "Sebastian!" he calls, running into the open-plan living room. 

The flat is eerily quiet, enough to hear the subtle wind blowing in from the balcony doors. Until behind the curtains a scream can be heard, blood spurting across the white cotton and trickling down in thin waterfalls. "Fuck!" Adrian seethes, running for the open balcony. He finds Sebastian half-hanging over the railing, a deep wound slashed through his hip. 

He's completely naked, forced back by a man standing over him in all black garb, his face concealed by a hood. Sebastian stares past him into Adrian's eyes, terrified and clinging for dear life. He has the man's jacket balled up in his fists, the only thing keeping him from being pushed over the edge. But the blasé pressing into his throat is making his grip falter, his feet shuffling against the railings. A thin line of blood is only just appearing across his throat. Sebastian's options are -  have your throat cut or your head smash as you faceplant onto concrete. 

Vincent jumps forward to attack the hooded man but Adrian realises something only a little too late. "Vincent, no!" Sebastian's hip wound is deep but there's no weapon embedded in it... and the knife held to his neck is clean. 

From behind the wall another hooded man emerges, his knife already bloody. Hooded Man #2 wraps a hand around Vincent's entire arm, dragging him to the side of the wall. He grips Vincent's lovely, blue hair in his fist and cracks his head against the wall one, twice. 

Adrian snaps out of his attacks, consumed by a fury so intense he doesn't think. Can't think. His mind is a muddled pool of grey rainwater. He lunges forward and rips Hooded Man #2 from Vincent, throwing him by his gross leather suit into the side of Hooded Man #1, knocking him off Sebastian. They tumble to the side of the railing. Sebastian gasps in shock with the knife pulled from his neck, reaching up just to make sure his head is still attached. 

He drops to the floor and into the legs of Hooded Man #2, crushing his skull into the corner and running into the apartment. Adrian picks up Vincent and drags his limp body through too. Sebastian slides the door over, the wall of glass shuddering with such force the door seems to wobble before his eyes. They run through the apartment - because what protection is glass really? - and into the main hall, locking the apartment door behind them. 

"Oh fuck," Sebastian collapses against the wall, breathing heavily. 

"You idiot - you should have listened to me," Adrian scolds him. He sits over Sebastian, pressing his shirt into the wound on his side, keeping pressure on it. The shirt soaks with blood, it's deeper than he'd thought and bleeding out quickly. Vincent has small scrapes on his face, they aren't dangerous. But he could have a concussion... what to do when someone has a concussion, he Googles in the hallway. 

One of the neighbours, a rich member of the Education Board, pops his head out from his flat. "Would you like me to call an ambulance?" he sounds so annoyed, forced to get out of bed in his striped pyjamas with his hair slightly less kempt than usual. 

"Yes please! And police too!" Adrian calls back. The man nods and his glasses fall down his nose that's so thin and pointy it reminds Adrian of a buzzard. He adjusts them back to the bridge and hides back in his flat. 

"W-Wait..." Vincent croaks, sitting against the wall opposite Sebastian. "Isn't this illegal|? Won't you get arrested for prostitution or something?" 

Sebastian rolls his eyes. "We aren't prostitutes, we're escorts. That's different and not illegal," 

"E-Escorts aren't paid to fuck customers though..." Adrian bites his fingernails nervously. What if Vincent is right? It's true, calling themselves 'escorts' has gotten them away with a lot. But the fundamental difference between 'escort' and 'prostitute' is the very act of payment purely for sex. And they've done that, there might be evidence... He hands his head in his hands, rocking back and forth to calm himself. He feels like crying, what will become of him if this happens? 

Vincent pulls out his own phone and dials the driver, telling him to pick Adrian up downstairs ASAP. "What are you doing?" Adrian asks, once he's hung up. 

"Go downstairs and leave when the driver arrives, go back to the manor. I'll deal with this," pain is clear in Vincent's voice, but Adrian's body moves on its own. He wants to object, however seems incapable. Something is keeping his mouth shut, it can't just be the desire to not get caught. 

The drive home is silent. Adrian obsessively checks his phone for a message from Vincent. When he arrives, he notices the twins' hopeful but worried faces at the window, and slips on his mask of temperament. His 'falling apart internally but still coping lmao' mask. 

"Where's dad?" Ciel asks him the second he walks in the door. "And what's on your shirt?!" 

"There was an accident," he admits with a sigh, bending down and picking up Junior who looks like he's ready to cry. He flattens his hair soothingly, carrying him over to the futon in the drawing room. Ciel follows. Adrian sits with Junior on his lap and Ciel hops up beside him. "There was an accident, your dad got a little hurt, and someone else got hurt a lot worse. Your dad is dealing with it," 

"W-Will he have to go to hospital?" Junior sniffles, burying his face in Adrian's shirt. Images of blood and fire, the blackened body of his mother before his eyes. Searing hot pain, Junior experiences all of it in flips, ten times over. 

"Maybe," Adrian sighs. He rubs Junior's back in what he hopes is a comforting manner. "I think you two need to get to bed," 

"Will you come with us?" Junior asks, still not letting go of him.

"And read us stories," Ciel adds. 

Adrian discovers it's quite easy to pick up both the Phantonhive children, one on each arm. He carries them upstairs and helps them get ready for bed, even brushing their teeth. Of course they're old enogh to do this themselves and he should be encouraging them to be independant, but he can indulge their childishness just this once. After all, this is the first sliver of normalcy he's seen from both of them. 

"What story do you want?" He looks through their bookcases for something appropriate. _Scary Stories for 7 Year Olds_ , doesn't seem like a good idea. _Grimm's Fairy Tales_ also seems a bit too gory for tonight. He doesn't wanna trigger past traumas in either kid. 

"This one," Ciel orders, handing him a short, thin picture book. 

"Eh, this is for babies," he cringes. The picture is cute, two cats, a mother and child cuddling in a barn. But the title, _The Cat Who Lost His Purr_ , seems so babyish and stupid it makes him question Vincent's parenting methods. "Wouldn't you rather choose something more adult?" 

"Please, Adrian!" Junior calls from his bed, eye wide with worry. Adrian huffs but begins to read anyway, and is soon just as absorbed in the story as the Phantomhives. 

*

Vincent returns to his manor, walking silently through the rooms like a haunting ghost. He reaches his sons' bedroom, a tiny stream of light spilling from the slightly ajar doorway. Light? But they should be asleep by this time! He approaches the doorway and pushes it open slightly more, careful where he steps so not to crack their floorboards. 

The twins are in their bed, snuggling under the covers. Adrian is slumped over in a chair, an old book Vincent used to read to the twins crumpled up on the floor, having fallen frim his hand. All 3 are fast asleep. He holds back a small squeal at the scene - but does indulge himself in taking pics - going up to Adrian and gently shaking him awake. "Sssh, the twins are asleep," he whispers into Adrian's ear once the man begins to stir. 

Adrian opens his eyes wide and focuses them on Vincent. He grabs him, pulling him in for a hug. "I was so worried! Are you okay?" he whisper-shouts. 

"Mild concussion, I'm fine," he assures, taking Adrian's hand and leading him to their bedroom. 

"What about Sebastian?" Adrian asks, collapsing into their shared bed in exhaustion. 

"Sshh, sleep," Vincent encourages, humming a deep song in Adrian's ear. That's a discussion for tomorrow morning. Or never. 


	14. Chapter 13

Adrian wakes up the next morning with a pounding headache. As soon as his eyes open his anxiety returns, though the warm body on top of him is helping with that. He sighs in relief, Vincent is okay. He shifts a little under Vincent, who starts to stir at the disturbance. He feels Vincent's eyelashes flutter across his torso like hummingbird wings when he blinks awake. "Good morning," Vincent hums, sliding his arms up Adrian's to caress his shoulders. 

"I w-was so w-worried," Adrian clings to him, drawing him as close as possible. It isn't close enough! Even if their bodies are pressed together like glue. He's never gonna let Vincent go as long as they live. "What did the doctors say?" his voice is muffled by Vincent's shoulder. 

"I'm fine, just a mild concussion. And the pesky wounds of course," Adrian looks up and indeed, the cuts on Vincent's face are popping out from his cheek bones and bottom lip, one on the corner of his brow ridge. Additionally, bruises cover his entire face, not even yellowing yet. Still patterned in red and blue patches across his face. Adrian feels so depressed, fresh tears spring in his eyes. He blames himself, how could it not be his fault? Everything is. 

"I-I'm s-s-sorry," he sniffles into Vincent's shoulder, letting his tears fall on the skin. 

"You did nothing wrong," Vincent smooths down his hair with gentle swipes. His Adrian is so cute but he's his tendency to blame everything on himself is highly worrisome. Non-serious wrongdoings he can attribute to others but if anything real happens, Adrian will always feel guilty and he doesn't have to. "You're so good, Adrian," 

His cheeks flush slightly. "I was just w-worried, I'm sorry..." Adrian clings onto Vincent needily, using his larger body to swing them across so he is curled up on top of him. His legs are on either side of Vincent and he slides them sensually up his sides, bow-legged and leaning on his hips, legs spread wide. 

Vicnent grunts a little, blushing himself. This was unexpected: he's the one who initiates things, Adrian complies. Now it's flipped and he doesn't understand it. His love is never so bold, maybe he's just feeling clingy today. He must have been so frightened last night, Vincent understands he scared him with his coldness. He just prefers to deal with injury and things himself, he's a solitary person and that won't change simply because he has a very dependant, very cute boyfriend to consider. 

"Adrian... now?" he asks uncertainly. "I doesn't seem a good time..." 

"Mhmm, it's the best time," Adrian mutters, grinding gently against Vincent's hip. He feels a swelling against his stomach. Chuckling, he pushes up Vincent so his chin rests on his shoulder. 

Before anything more explicit can occur, the bedroom doors crash open and Ciel and Junior rush in, jumping onto the bed. Vincent throws Adrian off and embraces his children. The twins fawn over his wounds, kissing each bruise to make it better. Adrian smiles so much his scar tingles. This is his family. Ciel sits on his legs, back against his chest. He feels safe with Adrian... he finally feels like he belongs here. 

"Dad, what happened last night?" Ciel asks his father. Adrian would like to know that too, looking expectantly at Vincent. 

Vincent frowns, he's getting no allowances from this. "Well, we had to go and rescue one of Adrian's friends from some bad people," 

"Did they hurt him?" asks Junior. 

Something Adrian has been wondering about. "Yeah, what happened to Sebastian?" 

Vincent sighs, he really isn't getting a break from this. Adrian is looking up at him like a wounded puppy. "His wound was severe and he bled out rapidly. His left kidney was punctured and had to be removed. He's still in hospital I think," 

"H-His kidney..." Adrian shudders, trying not to cry. Sebastian was such an idiot, they made a deal not to involve work and home and look what it's done to him! This s exactly the kind of thing they were hoping to avoid. He's giving Sebastian such an earful when they next meet! "What about the police?" 

"I gave a statement about Sebastian... told them he's an escort and that I showed up because I'm an ex client - there'll be a record of me on the Midnight Sparkle system - who got close to him and became friends. But - " he covers the twins' ears by putting their heads together, one hand on each twin's outer ear. " - they arrested both the clients who assaulted him and both are saying he's a prostitute," 

"We can still hear you, dad!"  Junior calls. Ciel giggles to his brother. 

"There's nothing they can do to him legally for that," Vincent speaks slowly, noting Adrian watch his mouth move. He likely isn't listening, simply watching with that glassy-eyed look of cognitive dissonance. "But what is illegal is to use a home as a brothel. And there were two clients in that flat, who claim it was being used as a brothel..." 

"You 'ave got ta be kidding me," Adrian groans "Our apartment was never a brothel, it was a website office for an agency! What the Hell have you done, Sebastian..."   
  


"Oh don't worry yourself," Vincent dismisses, pulling Junior into his lap. He begins stroking his hair softly, thinking it looks more sea green when the light hits it. Junior has Rachel's eyes, Ciel has his father's. "They'll never accept the testimony of your attackers and there's surely no evidence it was being used that way. And your agency was legitimate, so that's positive. I will testify as will you if needed, but I doubt it'll even go to court. Even if it does, no judge would prosecute under these circumstances," 

"You're right," Adrian admits with a soft, relieved smile. Vincent is so smart, he can always calm him down. One of those types who always knows the right thing to say and has the results to back it up. Adrian stands, sniffing his clothes. They smell of blood and sweat, he's dirtied his lovely pink bedsheets. Have to apologise to Mey-Rin later about the extra washing. "I'm off to shower, then I'm going to the hospital. Bart's, isn't it?" 

"That's where they took him," Vincent confirms. "Don't get the subway, there's construction on that side, Get the bus," 

Indeed Adrian does, dressed in a more watered-down, civilian version of his appearance. A grey t-shirt, darker jeans with rips and black trainers he doesn't recognise. They could be Mey-Rin's for all he knows. The bus jostles to his stop and 'he jumps off, mumbling a low 'Cheers, mate' to the driver. 

The hospital is vast and barren, not the lively place of buzzing energy he pictured. Maybe the trauma ward isn't the most vibrant of places. He starts thinking about how he could have worked here, just downstairs in the morgue. How he could have been a pathologist, done autopsies. In the spirit of bitter reminiscing, he makes a rule to himself on the spot: never listen to Sebastian. Sebastian talked him out of uni, out of embalming school, business classes and making his dreams happen. All to bring Adrian down to his level, a sex worker. He feels played. 

"Knock knock," Adrian knocks on the doorframe to Sebastian's room. His is the final bed on the right, beside an old man with a breathing tube. Opposite him is a man with facial burns and another with bandages wrapped around his wrists. 

"I'm too tired to babysit your ass," Sebastian groans, but moves his legs so Adrian can sit beside him. His face is pale as a ghost, sunken and his eyes hollow. "Sorry for scaring you. I've learned my lesson about clients in the house," 

"We made a promise," Adrian starts crying again, more and more with each word. They have to be vague, don't want the other patients to know about their private business. "An' you broke it. Tha' rule existed for a reason - this exact reason! What were you thinking? I warned you against it..." Adrian rambles on. 

"I have no idea what I was thinking. That's why I need you to work with me," he chuckles. "I think I might get out of this line of work. Become a butler maybe, clean hotels. That kind of thing," 

"Well yer a better chef than I am, and I'm damn good," Adrian suggests. 

"You can only make desserts," Sebastian refutes, wincing a a jab of pain though his hip. It;s an intense stinging, like he's being slashed. "Yes, that's what I might do. Go into the service industry, I'm already good at servicing people," he winks. 

"Your jokes are shit today," Adrian looks away for a second, realising how close he was to losing his friend. He can't talk to Vincent like this, to nobody like this. Sebastian has known him forever, since before he knew about social anxiwty or anything. When he was still masquerading as edgy and badass. When he was at his loneliest point. "You really did... scare me. Don't do that again," 

"I won't. I promsie," 

Adrian shakes his head. "That word doesn't mean shit between us anymore. Just don't do it, then I'll believe you," 

"Okay," Sebastian nods. "Your Vincent, he's stand-up. A bloody good bloke, he is. I spoke to him in the ambulance. Not the posh twat I thought he was at all," 

"I know," the utterance of Vincent's name makes him grin chilishly. "I feel like I'm really par' of their family, ya know? I mean I wan' to be. His kids... they're comin' round to me, I think," 

"That's good. Oh and about our old flat..." 

"Yeah, you can't go back there," Adrian agrees. Not only could it be traumatic for Sebastian to return, but there might be getting a court case for turning it into a brothel. One more crime stat in the sea of thosands. Best not rock the boat with the exclusive renting agency to avoid an intense lawsuit if the conviction stands. "D'you 'ave somewhere you can stay?" 

"Hm, maybe. I may have met someone. Young bloke, he owns a couple of hotels and can likely get me a job in service in one of them. Get my own little place," 

"You wasted your talents," Adrian tells him, with sudden levels of realness. Sebastian's eyes widen, though in surprise more than offence. What has gotten into Adrian today? To be so bold. The grey man continues his tirade of insults, calling Sebastian out on everything. It may be shock or an existential crisis as he recognises his own mortality, either way Adrian is relentless. "You could've been anything but you wasted your teen years. Mine as well. I hope you know that," 

"I like where I am," Sebastian reminds him. He looks down at his ptiful crinkly robe and heart rate monitor. "Okay - I don't like that I'm here exactly. I mean where I am in life. I never thought less of myelf for my line of work. I don't think you did either and if you did you're a prude. But I was a dick for runing your dream, I can admit that," 

"Great," Adrian scoffs sardonically. Though he knows how truly difficult that was for the narcissist to admit. With a resigned look of hope, he stands up from the bed and helps Sebastian fix his covers. "I'm going, I wanna be with my family. Talk later, alrigh'?" 

"See you," Sebastian waves him off half-assedly. 

"I'll bring you some cookies on my next visit," Adrian assures, already planning to spike them with hot spices as a revenge prank. Staring through the window into the room, it looks like Sebastian has already fallen into a dead sleep. An ethereal figure lies in that bed with beauty than transcends dimensions. The wannabe butler really is so beautiful even when sickly. 

 


	15. Chapter 14

**!WARNING - NSFW!**

The panel hearing is today, in an hour in fact. And until then, Vincent takes his family to a candy shop. Why? Because he has 2 children who are going to be stuck in a stuffy courtroom for 2 house to appease. And Adrian is just a big child so the candy store is a great way to have an easy life with all of them. The place is split between the actual shop part and a small café section at the back. "Thank you for agreeing to sit with my sons during the hearing, Madame Red," Vincent thanks politely, sipping the strong Earl Grey from his coffee cup. Adrian nurses a hot chocolate with cream and marshmallows along with Junior. Ciel's hot chocolate doesn't have any cream or marshmallows. 

"Not a problem! You two will behave for your aunt, won't you boys?" she asks the twins. 

"Yes Aunt Red," Ciel agrees. He has a cream moustache on his lip which Vincent wipes off with a napkin. 

"Yup," agrees Junior, taking the last few drops of his hot chocolate. "Adrian, come decide what sweeties to get for during the case!" 

He grabs Adrian's hand and drags him sway from the table, Ciel following. They stand before dispensaries of different sweets, each Phantomhive child carrying a little pre-made cup to fill. There are so many flavours and colours, they don't know where to begin! "What should we get?" Ciel asks. Adrian runs his eyes over the names of the sweets, things like 'Atomic Gobstoppers' and 'Luxury Fudge'. 

"I'm a chocolate person myself, Junior, I know you like cake most... why don't you just order a cake from the counter?" he can eat a cake quietly without disturbing the courtroom. 

"Good idea!" the younger twin agrees, running to the counter to order a double slice of the most delightful angel cake decorated with strawberries. Adrian chews on his lip. Ciel will be trickier to shop for - he loves sweets but not to the extent his brother does, and his tastes don't really have a 'theme' either. 

"What aboiut gummies?" Adrian finally suggests, another quiet sweet. He just wants to get this day the Hell over with. Vincent is getting impatient too, staring at him with that cold, clear gaze of his. The order of 'hurry up' is communicated clearly, and Adrian is sure it isn't just his axiety talking. 

"Luxury fudge sounds luxurious," Ciel finally decides, filling his bag. Adrian pays the opulent price - £12 for a cake and a bag of fudge... that's criminal - and returns to Vincent swiftly. 

"Come now, we'll be late," Vincent goes to take Ciel's hand, but he bats it away. 

"I want to hold hands with Adrian!" Ciel grabs his hand. 

"Me too!" Junior takes the other. 

"Alright," Vincent chuckles. "Just don't ruin your Sunday bests," 

The twins are dressed in their best clothes, matching blue sailor suits with pleated hems. With no hand to hold onto, Vincent simply hangs off Adrian's neck all the way to the court, chatting and laughing with his boyfriend as they go. Trying to keep the mood light, and succeeding. 

They arrive at the court and Adrian sits in the back row by Sebastian. The twins are taken by theirv Aunt to the front with Vincent. Finally, the judge calls for Sebastian's case and Sebastian, Adrian and Vincent approach the docks. The procurator fiscal eyes the case with scrutinous judgement. The judge looks over his bench. 

"Sebastian Michaelis is accused of using his home as a brothel on the night of March 31st 2019. We have the testimonies of 2 people confirming this. Ash and Angelina, who claimed to be clients the night they attacked Sebastian in his home. However, due to the nature of the event, these statements will be dismissed as evidence," 

A collective sigh of relief rings through the gallery. Even less evidence to worry about now. They'll never prove Sebastian actually did it, but proving intent is another matter. 

Adrian's heart continues to thump like a jackhammer against his ribs. his hair feels so hot, like th temperature shot up 300 degrees. Is this why he; sweating so much? Each breath is deep and forced, but doesn't seem to be moving any air. Who forgets how to breathe at a time like this? Vincent squeezes his hand a little, giving him an encouraging soft smile. His expressions, while dynamic, are always so soft. 

"Sebastian Michaelis, records from the _Midnight Sparkle_ escort agency suggest you and your business partner, Adrian Crevan, were not only escorts but also selling sex. Is this true?" 

"Yes," Sebastian answers, his voice and posture dignified. 

"And when this would occur, where would this happen?" 

"Usually at a hotel the client booked," 

"Thank you, the records taken from the computer in your home seem to confirm this," the judge smiles in satisfaction. That drops as he reads the next line though. "However, records from the night of your attack suggest you were intending to use your home for your clients that night, but se was not specified. What duties were you gong to carry out?" 

"Light BDSM - not sex. That doesn't make it a brothel," Sebastian clarified. "I was going to do this in my home, but sex was never specified between them. When they tried to have sex with me, I refused and that is when they attacked me," 

"Yes, the records do not specify you were selling sex that night," the judge nods. "That is all the questions I have for you," 

The judge gestures to Adrian. 

"Please state your complete legal name," 

"A-Adrian Crevan," Adrian replies shakily.  

"Adrian Crevan, did you ever sell sex to a customer while working as a co-owner of _Midnight Sparkle_ under the alias 'The Undertaker'?" 

"Y-Yes," Adrian feels his face heating up, like everyone in the gallery is judging him harshly. 

"Did yourself or Sebastian Michaelis ever partake in this business transaction in your own apartment, or any other commercial or residential establishment?" 

Adrian is confused by this question. "W-We only ever did that in h-hotel rooms? Sometimes cars," he recalls, blushing heavily. He wouldn't be surprised of steam were rising from his ears. 

"Thank you, Mr Crevan," the judge's gaze shifts. "Earl Vincent Phantomhive, you were a client of The Undertaker's, correct?"  

"Correct," Vincent affirms with a nods. 

"On two occasion, you purchased escort services from Mr Crevan - The Undertaker. Can you describe these?" 

"The first occasion was a dinner date. The second purchase was made that same day, when I bought sex from Mr Crevan," 

"Where did the transaction take place?" 

"A hotel room," 

"Thank you, Mr Phantomhive," he judge nods to him. Vincent sits down along with Adrian and Sebastian. He takes Adrian's hand and on the other side, Adrian takes Sebastian's for good luck. The old judge stares down at a small stack of papers shuffled together and falls still, Adrian hopes he's fallen asleep so they can declare a mistrial. 

"In the matter of the Queen's court versus Sebastian Michaelis, Sebastian Michaelis is found not guilty and no sentencing or penalty will be employed by the court," 

There's a joyous murmur among the gallery, Sebastian's eyes gleaming with satisfaction. He turns t hug Adrian, wrapping his hands around his waist before sliding them back to his hips. "You al'ight? You're paler than I am," 

The sheer release and relief makes Adrian dizzy, lightheaded splotches passing in front of his vision. He tries not to faint. "I'm fine, I'm -" 

"Are you going down?" 

"Fuck - Yup," Adrian confirms with a croak, before sliding onto the bench once again in faint. 

"Should we call the ambulance?" Asks the judge from the alter. 

"We're okay," Sebastian assures with a dismissive wave, helping Vincent carry Adrian out on his shoulders. Vincent doesn't blame his boyfriend - the past month has been insane. He was bound to burn out at some point. 

They celebrate briefly in the coffee shop - the same Starbucks Vincent and Adrian had their first proper date. Vincent buys coffee, tea and cakes for everyone. The ambience feels friendlier than when Adrian first arrived here, less imposing. And he returns to his senses once a generous amount of coffee with foam is poured into him. 

"I want to sit on Adrian's lap," Ciel declares, leaving his seat and settling calmly on Adrian. The man blushes, heart swelling with pride. 

"You aren't useless," Ciel tells him, voice unapologetic. He is simply correcting an erroneous statement, nothing more. 

"Why, I think tha's the nicest thing a Phantomhive 'as said to me!" Adrian chuckles, flashing an amused glance at a now irate Vincent. "Aside from 'I love you', of course," 

"So," Madame Red sips her Twinings mint tea with her pinkie outstretched. Very classy. "Will you finally admit you have some form of anxiety disorder?" 

"No," 

"Very well," Vincent sighs. "In that case, I'm admitting you for assessment under the Madame's guidance. She has the power to diagnoses you or not - I'll book you a session with her next week to discuss your issues," 

"B-But she has biases! That's gotta be a conflict of interest," 

"Well, I was able to assess you the second I met you - so I didn't have biases then either," she smirks. "Besides, I know you much better now. And the better I know you, the more I accurate I will be," 

"And," Vincent slinks over on the long seat, slipping an arm behind Adrian's back. His fingers press into Adrian's side. "You don't have a choice my love," 

Adrian grumbles into his coffee cup so Vincent doesn't hear. 

 

* 

 

Before bed, Vincent assists Adrian in slipping a thin robe over his shoulders, flowing black netting with grey accents. It's light and comfortable to sleep in, ending just on the scars below Adrian's ass. Despite its practicalities, the robe is designed to allure, draw the eye to all the sensual parts of the human body, hugging Adrian in all the right places. "You never once told me how you got your scars," Vincent traces them slowly with a single finger. each scar stretching across milky pale skin. Adrian feels the numb tingling of ghost nerves, he shudders in discomfort. 

"Th-That tickles," he squirms away in the bed until he reaches the very edge, barely hanging off. 

"I bet it does," Vincent's hands move upwards, he presses against Adrian from the back, the nervous man whimpering when he feels a hardness press between him. Quickly he turns, facing Vincent. His face heats up, but this is no time to be nervous. This is on e battle of wits Vincent cannot win. 

"You'll never know how I got my scars, dear Phantom," he presses a finger to his lips, before dropping his head under the covers. Vincent feels him wriggle down before a pair of hands start to fiddle with his pyjama bottoms. They slip down his legs to bunch up around his ankles. 

Vincent feels himself enter a warm, wet mouth as his erection springs to life. Adrian continues his ministrations, gripping it by the base and putting pressure on the tip as Vincent's foreskin pulls back. He discovers this is Vincent's sensitive spot. He bucks up in pleasure when Adrian hits that. Though it feels so boring, just another one of these. 

However, the Undertaker is skilled in his technique. Reaching past, he does something that shocks both of them, and slides a fingers inside Vincent's entrance. Probing and exploring his insides makes the Lord of the Manor moan deliriously. Adrian keeps stroking the sensitive walls of his insides, eventually adding a second finger, torturously running a third just around the edge but not entering - teasing his partner ruthlessly. Payback for their first encounter. Vincent's sphincter is surprisingly malleable - he wouldn't be surprised if he's had something up there before. 

A strong grip in Adrian's hair pulls his head off Vincent's dick. "You have all the permission you need to be rough tonight," Vincent states, before dropping Adrian's head and forcing himself back into his mouth. 

Adrian mumbles something around Vincent's member that sounds suspiciously like 'Thank you, Daddy' and begins fucking him roughly with his fingers while directing every ounce of energy and technique to pleasuring Vincent's dick. 

The Undertaker thinks to himself. This must be reward for him having to get psychoanalysed by Madame Red. A reward he's willing to take full advantage of. Adrian Crevan curls up in these soft sheets, sucking harshly on the member forced into his mouth. Vincent's hips squirm under him, directing his mouth and fingers firmly. The warmth of pure sex radiates through his entire body, this feels oddly familiar and even more oddly, the most natural place for him. 


End file.
